


Deluge

by SmallShrub



Category: Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars
Genre: Action/Adventure, Attempt at Worldbuilding, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2020-10-27 02:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 229,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallShrub/pseuds/SmallShrub
Summary: Super Mario RPGAU. You’ve always enjoyed a good story because hey, who doesn't love seeing the good guys triumph over evil with lots of unnecessary drama to boot? And sure, maybe a part of that enjoyment stems from a sense of self-fulfillment since you'll never be as brave and selfless like heroes tend to be, but it shouldn't matter...right?Well, nothing other to do than find out yourself. After all, there has to be a reason why you wake up in the Mushroom Kingdom only to be accosted by a pesky star spirit to aid his cause.





	1. Tide Comes In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader did _not_ sign up for this, and the universe at large doesn't seem to care; more at 11.

Of all the crazy, completely random things to ever occur to you, waking up in entirely-actually-sorta-familiar worlds was never on the good ol’ bucket list. Not to say you ever really had one of those, but that’s besides the point. The point _being_ you had a sort of working knowledge to how these things usually went: become self-insert, join the heroes in their quest, save the world, live happily ever after. Or something.

As it were, you already achieved the first and most common step of the entire procedure: wake up in some seemingly foreign world. And, as with most others who miraculously or, perhaps, fictitiously ended up in a different world, you recognized said world. It was, in your humble opinion, quite obvious considering Goombas were predominantly present in one specific franchise.

Sure, you hadn’t really stuck around after waking up in the middle of some grassy plains to see whether or not the stompable bipeds could be a threat, but still. The damage was done and you were somehow in the midst of the Mushroom Kingdom, if the quaint-yet-fancy town you currently resided in was any indication.

Luckily for you, some random Toad guarding the path into the town had watched the spectacle of you being chased by a few Goombas. Taking pity, he hoisted his spear up and, while you were busy catching your breath, mentioned, “If you’re in need of a hand, why not rest at the Inn? I’m sure they can help.”

It came as a welcome surprise to learn the Toad’s voices weren’t...grating on the ears; honestly, his voice was just higher-pitched. Futilely trying to rub away the familiar ache in your knee, you simply nod and watch the gaggle of Goombas disperse back into the paths from whence they came, grumbling all the while about losing some ‘quick coins’.

The other Toad guarding the entryway speaks up. “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around these parts. You new here or something?”

“Yeah,” you lie, but in the end it’s not really a lie. “Thinking about staying here for a bit.” Not like you could do anything else.

“Well, if that’s the case, why not seek out ol’ Shroomby,” the first Toad interjects. “He’s the guy who runs the local Inn, if you’re wonderin’. Nice old man; he’ll help you out, guaranteed!”

You thank the two guardsmen feverishly until they basically tell you to scram; well, in a nice manner, but still. Once you set foot - limp, really - into the town does an inkling of recognition squirm into the forefront of your thoughts. Sure, you were familiar with a good chunk of knowledge pertaining to Mario, but the rustic cobbled pathways spread amongst the gothic buildings screamed _Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars_. And while you were glad to have been fortuitous enough to be sucked into a rather benign series, the possibility of living weapons invading makes it seem...maybe not too lucky.

Unperturbed - because you were going to be a useless NPC, dammit - you hobble your way down the streets. It’s relatively easy to ignore the curious glances of the townsfolk, all of whom are of the same, small stature that most Toads have. Still, it’s a bit unnerving considering you probably stand out like a sore thumb in your human-ness compared to these mushroom-based folk.

The town is a lot bigger than what it was in-game, which makes logical sense but _dang it_ your knee is killing you; running only aggravated it and now you can practically feel it swelling. Trying to not make your limp so obvious, you search for the building with the spinning star sign outside—_there_.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you walk in. A small bell chimes overhead, and an elderly Toad with a cap speckled with gray dots turns away from his shelves to greet you. “Why, I’ll be with you in a bit—oh my, I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before!”

An awkward greeting and introduction later, you finger the hem of your striped shirt and weigh your case on your tongue before speaking it. “Mr. Shroomby, I, uh, currently don’t have a place to stay—”

The elderly Toad waves a hand. “Not to worry, it’ll only cost you just 10 coins fer a night.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek and ignore the blazing heat radiating off your cheeks. “Um, I-I don’t—” You choke on your words and stumble to pick them up to avail. Mr. Shroomby raises a furry brow as his gratuitous mustache and beard twitch in what you think might be displeasure. “...I don’t have any money,” you finish lamely.

Before he can order you to leave, you hastily amend your statement. “B-but I’m more than willing to work for you if, if I can stay! I promise! Just—” You wince and pathetically admit, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Hmm…” The Toad stares at you for a good moment. Just about when you’re ready to apologize and leave the humble business, he says, “If you ain’t got nowhere to go, then I ‘spose I gotta take you up on your word, young’un.”

You peeter off into another speal of how grateful you are and how you won’t let him down before he, too, tells you to stop as those two guardsmen had. “Now, now, there’s no need fer that; it’d be wrong o’ me to turn away someone in need. Come on, lemme show you how I run things around here…”

Least to say, settling into your new arrangement fit quite nicely with your expectations which, to be fair, were pretty low. Unlike in the game, the Inn was more like...well, an actual Inn with long hallways filled with a scattering of individual rooms.

When you finally unlocked your room - Mushroom Suite #3, to be precise - you’re entirely surprised at all the humble accommodations. While a bit small, it’s still a single room filled with a bed, desk and a dresser. Peeking into the second door shows a quaint bathroom complete with a bathtub and shower. Very homey, all in all.

Placing your key on the nightstand besides your bed, you sit back on _your_ bed. To think you’d find someone so genuinely nice and for him to cut you some slack was unthinkable; thank goodness the Mushroom Kingdom was so hospitable! With that thought, the adrenaline seeps away into a calm and before you realize it, the pillow entices you into sleep.

*** * * * * * ***

You try your hardest to adhere to your new routine of waking up in the morning, helping clean up any rooms, and organizing any mail the Inn receives. If necessary, you also run some errands for the neighboring item shop since the owner and Mr. Shroomby get along like age-old pals. Thankfully, adapting to an entirely new world isn’t all that hard when said world is pretty similar to your own. All in all, it only takes a week or so to fall into your new normal.

Strangely, and perhaps luckily, you have yet to see either a short man in overalls or a woman in a pink poofy dress. Which is perfectly fine for you, considering your desire to remain as some benign NPC; it’d be difficult to be a hero considering the nearly perpetual limp you had. Not to mention how bravery is basically an antonym in terms of personal descriptors, but eh. You were also pretty sure heroes didn’t actively try and avoid the inevitable.

So you stick to your humble routine, fully intending to enjoy the world _Super Mario RPG_ has to offer.

A bell chimes overhead as you step into the item shop, a parcel cradled in your arms. Apparently, it was something or other Mr. Shroomby wanted delivered and who were you to disagree? So you ignore the curious gazes some of the other patrons shoot you - especially since humans were rare around these parts - and scoot behind an apron-clad mother of two children, who were likewise staring up at you.

You return their inquisitive gazes with a patient smile as their mother barters for a couple bottles of milk. After she pays for her groceries, she turns to leave but not before tugging her two little ones along, both of which were still looking at you like you were some sort of alien. Well, it’s not like the comparison is wrong.

“Well, if it isn’t ol’ Mr. Shroomby’s help!” Mr. Mycil, the item shop owner, calls. “Is there something you need, lil’ Urchin?”

Right; you developed a bit of a nickname in town due to running around errands to pay off your debt. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the fact you shared your interest in marine life when eating alongside Mr. Shroomby? Either way, it was more affectionate than scornful, so you don’t bother correcting others.

You can’t stop the bashful blush crawling up your cheeks, but you manage to stutter out, “I just—Mr. Shroomby wanted me to deliver this to you…” After a few moments of hesitation, you awkwardly set the wrapped parcel on the counter and Mr. Mycil takes it.

Placing it behind him on a mostly empty shelf, he nods appreciatively before returning his attention to you. “You’ve been a great help to both Shroomby and I. You have this ol’ man’s thanks.”

Before you can deny his kind words - you just play messenger, really - Mr. Mycil idly brushes his mustache. “This is a mighty selfish request of me, but I have something in need of deliverin’ myself.” You wait for him to go on, and taking your silence as an agreeance, he does. “It shouldn’t take too long, but the place is a bit o’ ways away.”

You feel your eyes widen. The prospect seems promising; after all, he always tipped you handsomely for helping him when you were supposed to be primarily working for Mr. Shroomby. It’d sure be nice to pick up some more clothes...But you’re supposed to pay back Mr. Shroomby eventually...Then again, you weren’t sure if you were really up for leaving the town where other monsters likely roamed, not to mention your bad knee...

“Besides,” the shop keeper goes on, completely unaware of your internal musing, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you leave our humble town yet. And here I was thinkin’ you young ones are always keening for adventure,_ har har har_!”

The Toad releases a bout of laughter in sharp contrast to the growing panic you feel. Oh no, this is starting to sound suspiciously like—

Mr. Mycil continues unperturbed. “One of my customers ordered something, and I’m afraid if it’s not delivered soon it’ll go bad.” Thumbing his lower lip, he goes on to explain, “The one who usually picks up the order isn’t feelin’ up to snuff, so I was wonderin’ if you’d be able to go in ‘is place.”

—a forced side-quest. _Dang it_.

You resist the urge to heave a sigh in front of the shorter toad. Instead, you find yourself shifting your weight from leg to leg, unconsciously checking to see if your knee could possibly handle the walk. Figuring there was no immediate pain or soreness, and the fact it was still midday, you return Mr. Mycil’s inquiry.

“I’ve never, um, left the town,” you begin, but before his face can fall you quickly say, “but if you provided some sort of map or something, I could go. If—if it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

The Toad gives you an appraising look before guffawing some more. “Of course, of course; what kinda man would I be if I didn’t tell you what’s what?”

It takes Mr. Mycil a few minutes to deposit a cake box on the counter alongside a rolled-up map of the neighboring lands. Since no one else enters the shop, he takes the time to mark down your destination on the map and tell you about the general path, including ways to avoid potential unsavories. This is in spite of one road being literally called ‘Bandit’s Way.’

Taking one last glance at the map, you notice the final destination is, of course, the Tadpole Pond. _Of course_.

Rerolling the aged parchment and sticking it beneath the twine wrapped around the cake box, you thank the kindly shop owner. He returns the thanks as you make your way out of the shop. “Thank you much, lil’ Urchin; your work around here is always appreciated.”

You simply beam at him as you step out into the warm afternoon sun, ignoring the unsettling feeling swelling in your gut. Unfortunately, it only intensifies when you hear the reedy noise of multiple Toads. Peeking around the storefront, you spot an array of them running around the town’s cobbled pathways.

Wondering about the small commotion, you continue staring—oh. You’d recognize that poofy pink dress anywhere.

Sure enough, closer inspection reveals a small squadron of Toads toting around spears surrounding the princess of Mushroom Kingdom herself. She’s pretty happy, nearly skipping around despite her frilly skirt and smiling at any passing civilians, who wave back with equal joy.

That’s all you see before you quickly turn around and scamper away, hopefully unseen. Clutching the parcel - likely a cricket pie, if memory serves - you hurry down the street toward the southern exit of town. Mentally going over the path Mr. Mycil pointed out to you, you step off the stones and into the beaten dirt path just outside the town walls.

With the sun hanging almost directly overhead, you make your way to Frogfucius.

*** * * * * * ***

You decide to opt out of going through the primary path recommended to you, that being through the Kero Sewers. Really, it wasn’t that hard of a decision since you’d otherwise be required to travel through sewers and then get booted all the way through the Midas River. Then there’s the prospect of swimming, which was...extremely less than appealing. Also, Belome was a thing.

Supposedly, there was a quick way to get to the pond via some hidden pipeway located somewhere in Bandit’s Way. ‘A merchant’s trade secret,’ is what Mr. Mycil said with a wink. Then again, you were walking into a path littered with, y’know, _bandits_. Besides _that_, you were carrying something which probably wouldn’t interest anyone who isn’t a frog or insectivore. Not like you had a rare frog coin like some other, distinctly puffy people.

Hobbling on the worn dirt path laid out before you with the sun hanging overhead, you think back to earlier.

Considering you’ve been stuck in the Mushroom Kingdom for a bit, you kinda have a sense of what’s a normal occurrence and what isn’t. Apparently, seeing the princess herself being escorted to Mario’s Pad - if you had to guess - was something which fell into the latter category. And if your guess proved true, then…

Well. Seems like the actual plot might be happening soon.

More determined than ever to remain a humble resident of the Mushroom Kingdom under Mr. Shroomby’s roof, you nod resolutely to yourself. And the best way to do that would be to feigh complete innocence and pretend you _don’t_ know basically every important event which will likely occur. And the best way to do _that_ would to blend in as another innocuous resident, just enjoying day to day happenings.

...sure, there’s the thing of you being one of, what, four humans living amongst dozens of Toads? Maybe innocuous isn’t...exactly something you can be at the moment. Hmm, but what else to do but ignore all the awful things to eventually befall the world? Eh, you’ll figure it out in time.

So you do just that: taking the time to enjoy the balmy weather - even if you were always kinda chilly - and explore the seemingly untamed wilds of Bandit’s Way. Everything seemed just a tad bit too bright and colorful, all things considered. Not that you were complaining; it was actually kinda cute and took away from the fact you were trapped in a different world.

You hear some rustling. Curious but also suspicious, you don’t stop walking and instead glance toward the spot where you heard the sounds. Sure enough, you catch a quick peek at a face steeped in shadows beneath some sort of white carapace. Ohhh, wait a sec...that’s—

“_Ack_!” You nearly trip over yourself when something distinctly hard and heavy slams into the back of your skull.

Sure enough, when you gather your bearings, there’s a...Spikey? Is it called a Spikey? Well, one’s now staring up at you and those yellow spikes adorning its red shell don’t look appealing in the least bit. Carefully, you look up and sure enough, there’s the douche Lakitu who probably threw the thing at you.

Its eyes are narrowed behind the thick lenses of the goggles wrapped around its head. “‘Ey!” It shouts down at you. It reaches into its cloud - which you note is also narrowing its eyes at you - and pulls out another Spikey, which is curled into a ball. Palming it threateningly, the Lakitu yells at you, “I haven’t seen the likes of _you_ around here—”

“I’m, uh, actually kinda lost—” you manage before it cuts you off.

“Doesn’t matter to me!” The Lakitu quips, tossing the Spikey once. “All that matters is that you _get outta our turf_!”

Huffing once and not wanting to cause any more trouble, you simply nod once and make to leave. Apparently, turning your back on the Lakitu wasn’t the correct thing to do. As soon as you take a single step to avoid the Spikey at your feet, a faint _whoosh_ sounds above you.

Because you’re a slow dolt, the second Spikey hits you smack in the middle of your back. A gasp bordering between surprise and pain comes out and you turn around to probably yell profanities at the meddling creature. Instead, any bitter words are lost when you find yourself standing before two Spikeys and the Lakitu, who’s threatening to throw yet another Spikey down at you. Was this some sort of battle sequence or something?

“Hey hey _hey_,” the Lakitu calls down. With an impressive scowl on its face, it glares down at you before saying, “Don’t you dare turn your back on me, runt!”

Wow, _rude_. Sure you’re pretty goddang short, but was that really necessary? You’re still taller than the Lakitu and it’s cohorts, maybe even combined!

The Lakitu ignores your silent fuming to instead continue telling you to scram. “When I told ya to get, I meant it!”

You don’t even hesitate to yell back, “And I told you _I’m lost_—”

“—and I _don’t care_!” The Lakitu hollers back, palming the Spikey in its hand.

You can only offer it an incredulous expression bordering anger and extreme bafflement. Honestly, you’re surprised you haven’t booked it with how much you dislike confrontation, but you were pretty pissed at the moment. And with great frustration comes...absolutely no common sense.

“How am I supposed to leave if _I don’t even know where I am_?” You shrug helplessly, hugging the cake box to your chest. The stupefied look on the Lakitu’s face is all you need to continue your short-sighted rant. “I’m just trying to deliver some pie! Is it too much to ask for you to leave me alone for one dang second?”

When the Lakitu’s look of shock quickly morphs back into a scowl, you figure that maybe you shouldn’t have antagonized these guys. Sure enough, no sooner than you realize does it yell, “_Get ‘em_!”

Suffice to say, you don’t even hesitate to book it as fast as you dumb knee can carry you.

As soon as you turn your back on the wannabe-thugs, a blur of red and white whizzes past your feet. You yelp as you nearly trip over yourself, but manage to vault over the Spikey before landing and continuing your run. Another blur appears in your peripheral and you quickly turn onto a different path, successfully doging the Lakitu’s barrage. A muted curse above you proves that your stunt angered the floating bully further.

Zipping through the maze-like roads was a lot harder said than done. It was tiring just making sure you weren’t about to be bowled over by curled-up Spikeys, but also difficult to see any incoming projectiles from the Lakitu overhead; the stupid overgrown leaves of nearby bushes kept slapping you in the face.

While succeeding in obscuring your vision, they also hid your retreat well enough to the point they had to stop and ask nearby Paratroopas where you’d gone. As much as you’d love to stop - both for the sake of your knee and to possibly hide - you reckon it’d be smarter to just try and find the hidden pipe outta here. The faster you leave, the _better_.

Shifting your weight so most of it was on your good knee, you dash down another dirt-laden path before nearly bowling over some unseen rocks sticking out of the ground. Struggling to catch your breath and the cake box, you’re forced to some close to a stop. No sooner than gathering your bearings do you hear the Lakitu’s voice, thankfully far away.

Not so luckily, it seems it’s spotted you. “There they are; _go go go_!”

Holding the cardboard parcel firmly, you quickly take off again. You’re forced to dodge more Spikeys aiming to plow your feet down, but you manage to stay upright. You haven’t been keeping track of how many of the damned things the Lakitu keeps pulling out of its cloud, but you do know it’s a lot more than just three.

Another rushes past your ankles and, too slow in dodging, it’s spiked shell cuts into your exposed calf. The sharp sting followed by a warmth creeping down is all you need to know you’re bleeding. And to think your socks are white…

What isn’t helpful is the fact the Lakitu’s mount is really fast, easily beginning to gain on you, if it’s telltale voice getting louder is any indication. Ignoring the thing’s cries for you to, of course, “get back here,” you rush past a couple of bushes. Blinking as you run past the huge leaves, you nearly trip when you reopen your eyes only to see a small clearing with a single green pipe.

As soon as you can, you hurriedly climb onto the thing. No sooner than your feet leaving the ground do three separate Spikeys simultaneously ram into its base. The pipe easily withstands the onslaught, not even quivering from the harsh impact; must’ve hurt the Spikeys quite a bit. Sure enough, a cursory glance down shows the trio of them stumbling about the clearing in a dizzy stupor.

“A-_ha_!” Oh no. Looking up shows—yup. Captain of the butthole brigade, right there. “There’s nowhere for you to run to now, loser!” ‘_Loser_?’ Really? You’re on a_ pipe_, for crying out loud!

Mostly ignoring the Lakitu, you focus on the fact you’re already sitting on your getaway from this whole mess. Unfortunately and perhaps predictably, you have zero idea on how to use a _Mario_ pipe. You figure you just have to...jump down into the inky black abyss greeting your curious stare. Yup. Totally sounds safe and sane.

You’re forced to dodge yet another Spikey when the Lakitu hurls it down at you. Also unfortunate is that the thing sails behind you and not into the pipe like you’d kinda hoped it would. Maybe if it had you could’ve heard an end or something?

The Lakitu growls before retrieving yet another Spikey from its cloud. Deciding you have no more time to think about this, you dangle your feet down into the hole and scoot off the pipe’s edge. Nothing happens, save for the fact your feet meet some invisible forcefield; certainly feels like it.

Ducking further into the pipe, yet another Spikey whizzes past where your face previously was. Hoping all your clutching wouldn’t destroy the cake box and ruin the cricket pie, you do what you do best when met with an impossible situation: panic.

Stomping your feet against the invisible floor of the pipe, you grit your teeth as you keep peeking your head out to glance at what the Lakitu’s gonna do next. Knowing your luck, it’ll thrown yet another stupid Spikey at your face while you’re busy trying to activate a stupid warp pipe.

“C’mon, c’mon, _c’mon_; work you stupid thing!” You try your hardest to ignore the crude snickering coming from the Lakitu hovering above you, but the hot tears begin to prick your eyes regardless. The embarrassment only adds to the panic and suddenly it feels like you’re—

A shrill screech is pried from your throat. This must surprise the Lakitu because it stops its mocking, but you don’t care enough to see the look on its face. Instead, you continue to - futilely - stomp your feet against the unseen barrier; you just need to _get away_.

As if answering your unspoken plea, the force preventing you from using the warp pipe vanishes. No sooner than your insides shift in accordance with the abrupt leave of gravity do you begin your plummet into the darkness, yelling all the while.

Your cries echo off the walls and rebound until you can hear nothing but a layered cacophony of your screams. Wind rushes past you, rustling your clothes and nearly prying the cake box from your grasp. Still, it manages to dry the tears before they have the opportunity to fall and you can do nothing as the pipe continues to pull you toward your destination.

You may be a clumsy oaf, but even with your eyes shut you can sense the change in orientation. It’s the barest hint of a warning before you’re shunted out of the other end of the warp pipe, voice hoarse from yelling because you were wholly unprepared for _that_.

Luckily for you and the cricket pie, you land on your butt, still clutching onto the cardboard parcel like it’s a lifeline. Stupefied but getting there, you hesitantly open your eyes and are greeted with the sight of...more worn dirt paths and more overgrown bushes. Great.

Surprisingly, the map Mr. Mycil is of little use because you have zero ideo where you are. Even more surprising is the fact your knee isn’t too bent outta shape, but it still smarts something fierce when you clamor back onto your feet. The most surprising is the sound of flowing water nearby.

Making a mental note of this pipe, you begin trekking along the winding path. Thankfully, none of the Lakitu’s lackeys followed you; guess there’s some form of RPG logic present.

Aside from the generous ponds scattered about the landscape, the area is much of the same as Bandit’s Way. It doesn’t take long for you to stumble upon a small hill and see the horizon. Although the weather is amiable if on the warmer side, the afternoon sun’s rays reflect almost obstructively back from the massive lake off in the distance.

You’re willing to bet that’s Frogfucius’ abode.

Thankfully, the land is relatively flat and easy on your swollen knee, but you can’t afford to be too slow. The sun’s already begun it’s slow descent to the west, so you probably have a couple more hours left of daylight. Not wanting to be caught in the wilds at night with no supplies, you grit through the pain and continue.

You encounter a few monsters across the path, but they make no move toward you. A few starfish hop out of their shallow ponds and curiously stare at you, and a couple of Shy Guys are too busy messing around with floating tiles to notice you, but you pass by without incident. Given the enemies, you’re also willing to bet this is Rose Way, or somewhere very close to it.

Heaving a tired sigh and clutching the pie box, you limp onto a path lined by palm trees. The end of the trail is distinctive, with the same three notable paths as in the game; the tadpole emporium to your left and Toadofsky’s lemotif pool to the right, and the namesake of the place directly ahead. You approach the open pool of water, unsure of how to continue with your delivery when dozens of murky silhouettes appears beneath the water’s surface.

Sure enough, the beady black heads of tadpoles breach to opening gawk at you.

“Woah, a human!”

“I’ve never seen a human before!”

“Are they gonna eat us…?”

You ignore that last comment, parcing together that either these guys don’t know much of the world outside their pond, or that humans really _are_ that rare. Sincerely hoping it’s the former - because it’d be difficult to be an NPC then - you offer the tadpoles a weary grin.

“Hi there,” you begin, trying to sound as nice as possible, “is this Tadpole Pond, by any chance?”

You’re 99% certain it is, but it serves as a nice leeway into potential conversation. Sure enough, a few of the braver tadpoles bob their heads, undulating enough so small waves crest over the others. A larger one approaches the shore where you stand, confirming, “Yup! You here to see Grandpa?”

You shrug helplessly and shift the cardboard box in your grip. “I was—er, I have a delivery for him...I think?”

“Oh, okay then!” The same tadpole chirps. “I’ll go let him know!” And with that the critter retreats into the water.

Your eyes follow the tiny wakes as they approach the small isle in the center of the immense pond. Unlike the barren place it is in the game, Frogfucius’ home is actually a humble little cottage made of warm wood. A tiny chimney coming from the roof is billowing out small puffs of smoke, so someone’s obviously home. Idly, you hope Mallow’s okay, since he apparently wasn’t feeling well enough to get the cricket pie in the first place.

A couple of, frankly, awkward minutes pass between you and the slew of tadpoles still watching you. Some ask you a few benign questions, and you answer them to the best of your knowledge. The metaphorical dam breaks, and soon enough most of them are clamoring to ask you something or other.

A lull falls over the tiny crowd when a Lakitu hovers overhead, peering down at you through its thick glasses. Ignoring the shivers dancing up your spine - can’t forget how another one bullied you on the way here - you meet its neutral stare.

“Hi there,” you repeat, internally wincing at your poor conversational skills. Shifting on your aching feet, you explain, “Mr. Mycil—I mean, the item shop owner asked me to deliver this—” you motion to the brown box in your hands, “—to, uh, the Tadpole Pond.”

“A new errand guy, huh?” The Lakitu quips, but its voice is cheery unlike the other’s hostile tone. “Frogfucius is a bit busy right now, so I’ll take that off your hands.”

From the smiling cloud, the Lakitu pulls a fishing pole and a hooked line comes down in front of you. Bemused, you pluck the hook and secure it under the twine wrapped around the cake box. Soon enough, the Lakitu reels it in and pries the box open, checking the contents. Oh _crap_—

Quickly, you try to explain, “I, uh—I ran into a bit of trouble on the way here, so I’m sorry if it’s damaged!”

It merely nods once and smiles down at you. “It’s alright; sorry about the trouble, though. Here’s your payment.”

It’s a welcome surprise when the Lakitu reaches into its cloud and plucks not one, but two emerald coins from it. With practiced ease, it tosses the frog coins - actual, stinkin’ rare _frog coins_ \- down and you stumble to catch them. They’re tiny, about a fifth the size of your small palm, and oh so shiny.

“I—thank you,” you breath, eyes still glued to the sparkling green coins in your hand.

The Lakitu grins again before taking off with the box, flying toward the homely cottage on the central isle. With muted awe, you shove your - _your_ \- frog coins into your non-blood stained sock, wishing your shorts had pockets. A hasty farewell to the slew of tadpoles later, you make to leave Tadpole Pond, giddy that you now have money to call your own. There’s also the fact you dodged a bullet; meeting a main character is _definitely_ something you need to avoid.

The sun’s managed to crawl further across the sky, dipping the weather into something chillier. Considering you only had a striped tee and shorts, you figure it’s best to scurry back to your hotel room; you deserve a piping hot shower after today.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for you to retrace your steps and soon enough, you’re back atop that hill overlooking everything. You can see everything you can recall from the game; Bowser’s Keep off in the distance to the distinct cluster of opaque clouds, hoveringing beyond the skyline, to the dense forest where Geno will make his epic debut.

You wonder if he’ll be as cool as you remember. Then again, you want nothing to do with the adventure he’ll be at the center of.

Reaching down and rubbing your knee, you take in the views for another few minutes. A breeze comes and goes, shuffling the large bushes and their waxy leaves near you. Another _whoosh_ sounds nearby, but it takes you a moment to realize there’s no unseen force ruffling your loose shirt or shorts.

Something hard whacks into the side of your head with a muted _thump_.

“_Ack_!” A series of other undignified sounds comes out of your mouth, but you ignore them in favor of looking around. You don’t see anyone nearby, and a scan above shows no Lakitu threatening you with endless Spikeys.

It’s then you notice something lying at your feet. Idly rubbing your temple - the literal _worst_ place to be hit - and hissing in pain, you reach down and pluck the offending thing. Turns out the thing that nearled cleaned your clock is a slingshot; carved from wood and sorta crudely made. Huh.

“H-hey!”

You pause and turn around to where the cry came from. A few neighboring bushes begin to rustle erratically before a Shy Guy pops out, brushing its cloak of any leaflitter. It wastes no time in leveling you with...some kind of look, judging by the hands crossed across its chest. Hard to tell, given the mask and all.

Honestly, you’re torn. For one, Shy Guys are _adorable_. For another, this one nailed you in the head with a _slingshot_.

You grip the object tighter and settle for glowering down at the fella. It barely comes up to your upper thighs, which is something considering how short you are.

“That’s my slingshot,” the Shy Guy states in that...watery sounding voice indicative to its species. It’s pretty cute, but still doesn’t change the roaring headache pounding between your ears. Uncrossing its arms, it approaches you and extends its hand...arm; whatever. “Give it back.”

“Not if you’re gonna throw it at me again,” you seethe, wincing when it huffs in response.

“Look, I didn’t mean to,” it explains in a detached tone bordering on frustration. “I was just practicing with it; how was I supposed to know you’d be here?”

You sniff. Smartass. Still, you’re sore from your long day and your patience is dead in the water. You know all the Shy Guys around Rose Way utilized slingshots as their primary form of attack, so its story makes sense. Then again, you also know they can cast a couple of spells—uh, inflict status effects. Not that they’ll affect you, but...better safe than sorry. Still…

Trying to stop the cruel smirk that wants to come out, you stare down at the emotionless white mask. “Apologize, and I’ll think about it.”

“_What_?” the Shy Guy growls. “No! Give it back!”

It wastes no time in getting in your face - well, as close as it can, anyway - and reaching up as far as its stubby arms can go. You eye it before holding the slingshot above your head. The Shy Guy responds by trying to jump for it, growling all the while, with hilarious results. You try and eventually fail to hide a crude snicker.

A small white-shoed foot slams into your shin.

A gasping yelp escapes and you glare down at the Shy Guy. Without pause, you bring the slingshot down and slam it on top of its hooded head. Another yelp echoes in the open air.

This goes on for a bit, interjected with insults and the like.

“_Ouch_! You little—_argh_!” You swat the Shy Guy again, nearly stumbling after the third kick.

“You’re the one who started—_stop it_!” It changes tactics and slams its weight down on your toes.

“_Fu_—! _I’m_ the one who started it?! _You_ threw your slingshot at me!”

“_Gah_! I already said it was an accident, you idiot—_oof_!”

“Don’t be rude!” You swallow the urge to hop on your uninjured foot. “And you should _at least_ apologize!”

The Shy Guy rubs its head. “I don’t have a reason to anymore—_ow_!”

A lull presents itself, and you back away as does the Shy Guy. You huff, ignoring the sure-to-be bruise on your shin and your aching foot; the small guy likewise stops and continues massaging its head. You’d like to do the same, but you’re still too busy holding your swollen knee and keeping the slingshot above your head.

Unable to help yourself, you quip, “Sure must suck having your head bashed in, huh?”

“I must’ve given you brain damage,” the Shy Guy hisses, “because you _still_ don’t get it was an accident!” After a moment it huffs, an aggravated sound. “That or you just enjoy being a pain in the ass.”

A bewildered laugh bubbles up; hearing a Shy Guy cuss was an _experience_. Despite how indignant the fella is getting, judging from its posture, you try to explain, “I’ve never met a Shy Guy with an attitude before.”

It does nothing, but you equate the pause for something akin to rolling its eyes; if Shy Guys even have eyes. Wasn’t it a rumor that they don’t have faces…? Eh, doesn’t really matter.

“Whatever.” Well, seems like it agrees with your unspoken train of thought. Its mask rakes up and down your frame, and you struggle to not shift so most of your weight is off your bad knee. It seems to notice and asks, “What’s your deal anyway? Never seen you around before.” It goes on to distastefully mutter “which is why I didn’t know you were there,” but you let it slide; confrontation like the Lakitu’s is still not ideal.

You pause, holding the slingshot to your chest. “I, uh. I’m new. Yeah.” That sounded completely natural. You openly wince before trying to remedy your statement; “Made a delivery to Tadpole Pond, and now I’m headed back to the Mushroom Kingdom.”

The Shy Guy gives you what you think is an appraising look. “So you have a couple of frog coins on you.” You can’t help but wince again and it goes on to blithely announce, “You’re an idiot.”

“...maybe.” Biting your chapped lip, you try to defend yourself. “I prefer to think of it as being naive.”

“_Ugh_.” The Shy Guy groans, muttering to itself in what you assume to be its born language. Sounds cute. It continues for a few seconds before taking a calming breath and returning its attention to you.

“I’m going to be real with you,” it begins, exasperated. “You look awful. So how about we strike a deal: you give me back my slingshot and I don’t take your frog coins.”

You feel your face fall into what you think is also exasperation. “I really hope this isn’t your way of apologizing.”

“Don’t make me rob you blind.”

You want this day to be over, preferably by _yesterday_. Of all the demure, happy-go-lucky Shy Guys you saw on your way through Rose Way, _why_ did you get to deal with the snarky one? Not to mention your knee feels just about ready to give out on you. Then there’s the fact your sock is still crusty with dried blood...

“Fine,” you grit out. You’re way too tired for any more fighting, physical or otherwise. All you need is to somehow find your way back to Bandit’s Way, sneak past that damn Lakitu and its hoard of Spikeys, and collapse into your bed once you’re back in the Mushroom Kingdom.

It’s then when a sudden hush falls over the valley.

The skies above darken considerably and your attention is brought to the distant horizon. Turning around, you barely register the tiny _thump_ of the slingshot falling from your lax grasp onto the ground. You also ignore how the Shy Guy scrambles to your feet to retrieve it before it, too, stops to stare.

From what looks like an aurora dyed the colors of midnight, an impossibly large sword descends only to impale Bowser’s Keep.

A few moments of silence pass until small tremors wrack the ground you’re standing on, but it barely registers over the panic seeping into your chest. Even from where you stand, miles upon miles away, you can see the face embedded as a part of the sword’s hilt. Exor’s eyes are unfeeling as they look straight ahead, focusing on nothing.

You look higher and—how did you miss it? A massive gathering of stormy clouds - which you swear wasn’t there earlier - hangs almost ominously above Bowser’s Keep. Faintly, you catch trails of multicolored light being flung away from it, blazing across the dark skies like brilliant shooting stars. Belatedly, you realize they _are_ shooting stars; well, the broken pieces of Star Road, but they’re stars in the game.

Your eyes watch as the streak of green, so obvious against the backdrop of abyssal blues, begins to dip into a curve. Your neck follows as it falls into the massive forest on the other side of Tadpole Pond, triggering another minute tremor. A faint trail of glitter is left in its wake before it disappears like snow. Looking up shows the cluster of storm clouds has also vanished from your sight.

Quietly, you utter a heartfelt, “_Shit_.”

A small snort beneath you breaks you out of your trance. Huh; nearly forgot about the Shy Guy. Even so, it doesn’t really make another comment as its mask is still looking up at what you were. You decide to return your attention and you both watch as the dark aurora wavers and dissipates, leaving the sky as bright as you remember it.

“That was weird,” the Shy Guy states. You want to agree with his flippant tone, but the icy dread in your chest stops any reassuring giggles before they can come to fruition.

Swallowing, you try to nod your head but instead hiss a breath between your teeth. Anxiety ripples through you and you obey it by turning away from Exor skewering Bowser’s Keep. You nearly trip over the Shy Guy still at your feet, but you ignore it to stumble to the edge of the clearing.

It cries out again, sharply demanding, “Wait!” But its words are muddled under the newest wave of fear surging through your vessels; Exor is _here_ and you’re no longer _safe_. You have no idea if the physics of this world are as forgiving as those found in its game counterpart, but you know no good can come of living weapons invading. Geno is chock full of guns, but at least he’s on your side; er, the good guys side.

You stumble past the same bushes the Shy Guy came from. The path back to the pipe is no different than it was an hour or so earlier, but the shadows stretch in unfamiliar directions due to the sun arcing overhead. More chilly breezes brush past your exposed skin, but the goosebumps on your arms aren’t from the cold. If anything, the chill of oncoming dusk is a welcome distraction from the pain ebbing away in your knee and shin, since the stinging sensation of your cut has long since faded.

It thankfully doesn’t take too long to reach the same clearing as the hidden warp pipe, but your fatigue is starting to get in your way. Without even thinking about it, you clumsily climb atop the pipe and push yourself into its mouth.

Unlike last time, you’re immediately shunted back to the other end. Like last time, you’re unprepared so you land in a crumpled heap.

Dusting yourself off, you ignore the incessant dread that the same Lakitu will come looking for you. Honestly, it was always a sort of nagging thought hiding behind the abrupt stress of seeing Exor show up, but you’re somewhat glad there’s no sign of the bully, nor any of its lackeys. At least something seems to be going alright.

You’re too tired to care when you pry the crumpled map from the waistband of your shorts; unsightly, but it works. A few moments later you’re trekking back on the familiar but stupid maze of dirt-laden pathways. The sun overhead was already beginning to descend over the nearby hills, so you knew which direction you are relative to it.

Judging by your abysmal sense of time, it’s about fifteen minutes until the familiar and welcome sight of cobbled walls greets your gaze. Your limp is pretty pronounced, given everything, but the Toads guarding the entrance don’t give you pitying looks as you pass; just amiable smiles. The warmth stirred by the action quells a small bit of the anxiety. You offer a tired smile back.

You pass by a trio of Toads as you wobble your way back to the Inn, trying to hide your bloody leg from the two children circling their worn mother. She offers you a timid smile and you return it before scampering down the road, shrill laughter following you all the while.

Hugging your arms to your side, you sluggishly approach the doorstep of the Inn. You watch the star sign spin for a bit before it reminds you too much of the Star Road. A bell chimes overhead and a wave of warmth rushes over you as soon as you enter the lobby. A gray-speckled head is kneeling beneath the counter.

As soon as Mr. Shroomby gets up, his fuzzy brows rise. “Well, look who it is! Haven’t seen you all day, lil’ Urchin!”

“Sorry.” You plaster on another tired smile. “I delivered something for Mr. Mycil...I thought, since I was done with my daily chores, it’d be okay...I’m really sorry if I missed you.”

Mr. Shroomby just hums thoughtfully. “Nonsense; I’m glad you’re finally gettin’ outta this musty town. You young’uns need to get out into the world.”

“I like it here, though,” you murmur, to which Mr. Shroomby heaves a rattling laugh.

It’s then when you realize the worn map is still clutched in your vice-like grip. You stare down at the piece of parchment like you’ve never seen it before. “...oh. I should go return this—”

“No you don’t.” You startle when the worn inn-keeper appears in front of you. Gently, he pries the paper from your shivering hold and tucks it into his vest. He looks up at you and you return the unseen stare. Finding what he was looking for, he states, “_You_ need rest; I’ll take care of this in the mornin’.”

You sputter, trying to tell him it’s okay but he just stares at you like a grandpa disciplining his misbehaving grandchild. Fondness swells behind your sternum before reality sweeps it away beneath the fear still clawing at your insides. So you meekly agree and scoot up the stairs, barely hearing Mr. Shroomby offering to bring dinner up in a bit. You remember your manners enough to thank him before disappearing from his view.

A piping hot shower later, you throw yourself onto your bed. An old clock ticks faithfully, filling the silence and sort of calming your frayed nerves. The anxiety never went away.

Exor and, consequently, the Smithy Gang is here. You aren’t safe, but...no one else is, either.

Mushroom Kingdom is the first to be invaded by Mack and his army of Shysters. Again, you have zero idea how violent things will get, but things will get violent. Mr. Shroomby and Mr. Mycil aren’t safe; that mother and her two children aren’t safe; no one in the whole town is safe. They don’t even realize their princess is long gone, and if Princess Peach is as kind and cheerful as you think, then her leave will be extremely demoralizing.

You barely register the feeling of your eyelids drooping until it’s too late. You’ll think over things in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hooo boy_.
> 
> So. First thing's first: this project is something that's near and dear to my heart. The reader-insert is basically a self-insert (after all, this fic is shameless self-fulfillment, lol) and has been used exclusively to be at odds with my other reader-insert. More specifically, I've been working on this monstrosity of a story for nearly a year (currently on chapter 11, ha ha...) and although my hyper-fixating ass comes and goes, I've come too far along to not upload this. And, being the stubborn person I am, I _refuse_ to publish a work if I don't plan to finish it.
> 
> And to those who've read my _Shovel Knight_ fic, you kind of already know what to expect. By 'expect' I mean stupidly long chapters (~7,000+ words) because I don't know how to chill. That and a roughly once-a-week update schedule (though subject to change). And creative liberty might as well be my middle name when it comes to world building. Still, maybe you'll notice I (hopefully) improved a bit? 
> 
> (Please let me know if there're any glaring grammatical issues; I ain't perfect by a long-shot. If I notice an error I'll try and remedy it asap, but I'm also...not very observant.)
> 
> All that being said, if you've managed to stumble across this fic, I hope you enjoy!


	2. Tide Goes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader can't seem to catch a break and gets bullied in more ways than one.

Over a breakfast of eggs on toast, you talk with Mr. Shroomby about yesterday’s happenings.

“Hmm…” The old man hums, setting aside his own piece of toast. Taking a sip of water, he looks over the table at you. “I was still behind the counter when it happened, I suppose. Certainly felt it though, _har har_! Gave this ol’ man the rattles when the ‘quake hit.”

You take a bite of your toast and savor the saltiness. You already know what’s happening, but you don’t want to mess up any of the plotline elements; butterfly effects are a very real thing in most self-inserts, after all. Pausing and mulling over your next words, you swallow. “M-maybe this is just the stress talking, but don’t you think something’s...I dunno, that something bad’s gonna happen?”

One bushy eyebrow rises. The old Toad just guffaws and jokes, “An’ here I thought us old folk were supposed to worry over nothin’.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you continue eating until your breakfast is nothing but crumbs. You finish off your water and wait for Mr. Shroomby, light banter filling the air until he offers you his dishes. It’s the same old deal: he cooks and you clean up. It’s more than a fair trade, since the old innkeeper is great company over shared meals.

Over the sound of running water, you ask, “Do you know where I can buy some new clothes?” You resist the urge to look down; turns out Spikey’s...spikes are sharp enough to puncture cloth. Last you checked, a few noticeable holes were ripped from the back of your shirt. You bite down your embarrassment and mention, “These ones are, uh…”

“In pretty poor shape, I’d say.” Mr. Shroomby scoots over to you and you wordlessly give him a freshly washed mug. Drying it in a towel, he goes on to say, “I’m not too sure, since the Princess’ clothes are custom ordered...Oh! Why not check out the saloon off the main road? Jus’ look fer the larger sized ones; might fit you like they do that jumpy fella, _har har_!”

And you do exactly that once you’re done with your morning chores.

You idly hobble down the largest cobbled path, clutching your two frog coins. You hope they’ll be enough to cover at least a new shirt, but your curiosity overrides any lingering stress over the issue. A quick glance down shows your need for new socks, given one has a faded but pretty visible stain. At least Mr. Shroomby was nice enough to offer bandages for the cut!

Still, you’re pretty thankful there aren’t many others walking around to see how tattered your clothes are. Unfortunately, out of the few stragglers moseying along the main path, a bag-toting purple crocodile is one of them.

Trying - and probably failing - to hide your surprise, you force yourself to amble to the side furthest from the reptile. You don’t have to try too hard to avoid looking at Croco since you’re looking for the saloon—oh wait, there it is! But he’s standing in front of it, rummaging through his bag...how can you avoid this…?

The answer is you attempting some form of stealth, mainly sidling up to the building in question. Quietly, you walk up the wooden steps onto the balcony, the planks creaking under your weight—drat. He’s looking right at you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s curious. Then again, his irises dart down to your hands, so you can guess what he’s thinking.

Faking a quick grin, you bid him a “good morning” before hastily prying the entry door open.

A bell chimes overhead and a woman calls “welcome!” Offering up a quiet thanks in response, you open your palms and see two gleaming emerald coins, embossed frog faces returning your stare. _Hah_! Try stealing these _now_, Croco!

...you take a peek outside the front windows and the familiar red top hat is still there, along with the lavender crocodile beneath it. Thankfully his attention is elsewhere, mainly his bag. You breath a small sigh of relief; you’re not sure how he stole Mallow’s frog coin, but you figure it was out in the open and not in a shop.

As it turns out, the clothing selection is pretty big and, true to Mr. Shroomby’s word, the section for Toads on the larger side seems to suit your needs perfectly. You settle for a boxy shirt with navy-blue and yellow stripes, since it’ll match your dark blue shorts and keeps with your tradition of wearing stripes. You fumble with the price tag and...wait a sec.

You approach the counter, where a stout lady Toad rests. Her shadowed eyes trail over you and her puckered lips pull upward in an easy grin. “Anything you need, sweetie?”

“Um.” You grimace before opening your palm. “Do you accept frog coins as—as a form of payment…?”

Her button eyes widen a smidge before she whistles low. She shakes her head, red curls bouncing against her cheeks. Offering you a consoling expression, she relays, “I’m afraid not, sweetie...oh! But I’m sure ol’ Mr. Mycil can exchange them like he does for that cute puffball who visits every so often!” Smiling again, she asks, “Do you want me to hold on to this for you, dearie?”

You return the smile eagerly. “Please and thank you. I’ll be back shortly—!” And you rush out the door, ignoring the surprised crocodile still hovering by the balcony.

Without fanfare, you burst into the item shop and immediately rush to the empty counter. Mr. Mycil comes out of the backroom and offers you a tired smile. “Well, if it isn’t lil’ Urchin! What d’ya need?”

Ignoring the flush that always comes with the nickname, you show him your two frog coins. Telling him of your monetary plight, he takes the green coins without fanfare. A bit of tinkering with his register and a bit of small talk - “To think you’re excited about trouble finding you!” - he closes it.

You just laugh in tandem, knowing his words are a bit too close to home to be comfortable. Especially since you have zero idea when Mack and his entourage will take over the Mushroom Kingdom...well. There’s a bright side to everything, even in a full-scale invasion. And a missing monarch. Okay, stop laughing.

In the end, Mr. Mycil is kind enough to let you borrow a small pouch to carry the 40 normal coins - actually three larger ones and ten tiny ones - that are somehow a fair trade for two measly frog coins. You know they’re stupid rare in the game, but yeesh. No wonder that Shy Guy threatened to rob you. But hey, bright side is you can buy more than a shirt!

You make your way back to the saloon only to see Croco still standing there. Worse is how his dark eyes immediately hone in on you before shifting to the bag hanging at your side.

Hoping he won’t mug you in broad daylight, you plaster on another smile. “Waiting for someone?”

He looks you over before smirking. “Guess you could say that. But they’re here now, so it’s no big deal!” He actually has the audacity to laugh at your stricken expression. Then again, you kinda did walk right into that one.

“So...kid,” Croco begins, using that same flippant tone the Shy Guy used, “I’m a curious guy, so how’s about you entertain me, yeah?” You briefly hesitate before nodding, and his toothy grin grows. “Those tears on your shirt...how’d you manage to get away from Buster?”

You blink owlishly. “Uh, who’s Buster…?” Realization dawns on you and you don’t even try to hide the scowl. “You mean that Lakitu?”

Croco laughs again, a deep throaty sound that’s not as grating as you expected. “The one an’ only! A real piece of work, that one. The guy’s got an army of those spiky pests at his beck and call; even _I_ know when to scram, if you catch my drift.” He shifts his sack. “So how’d _you_ get away?”

You’re about to ask the reptile to be more specific, but his eyes dart down to your wobbling knee. Nosy bastard.

Instead of calling him out - ‘cause what a douche move - you just huff. “The same as anyone else; I ran.”

Croco’s smile wanes a bit before he snorts. “Alrighty; I get it. Guess what I really wanna know is how you made it through Bandit’s Way to the Tadpole Pond, ‘cuz the only way to avoid the guy is by leaving his turf or usin’ a pipe.” His sharp teeth glisten in the sunlight and a flash of icy dread makes itself known in your chest.

“How’s about you help a guy out,” the purple crocodile grins, “and tell me where the pipe is?”

You _just_ wanted some new clothes, dammit!

“Look,” you begin, trying not to shift uneasily on your feet, “like I said, I was too busy running away from Buster and his cronies to really pay attention to where I was going. In fact, I was hopelessly lost and even a map didn’t really help me.” You level an exasperated look at Croco. “If I can’t help _myself_, what makes you think I can help _you_?”

The crocodile takes in your words until the grin is wiped clean off his face. There’s a brief silence before he erupts into a fit of laughter. Once he calms down and wiping his eyes, he states, “Gotta give it you; you got me there! Anyways—”

Croco adjust the heavy-looking bag on his back before hopping off the wooden balcony in one swift motion. He throws another toothy smile at you.

“—see ya later, kid!”

And he bounds down the path, leaving you to grip onto your satchel and wondering what just happened. Well, at least you didn’t give away too much information; Mr. Mycil was kind enough to let you in on a ‘merchant’s trade secret.’

You simply shrug your shoulders and re-enter the saloon. The friendly woman greets you again and after explaining the abrupt gain in allowance, you leave the shirt in her hands while you look for more clothes. It doesn’t take long to pick out another spare shirt - a duplicate, because if video game characters can get away wearing the same outfit why can’t you? - and another pair of shorts. A couple pairs of socks later, you’re good to go.

You’re left with 18 coins jingling merrily in your borrowed pouch and a paper bag containing your new clothes, but you’re too happy with your purchases to really care. Sure, you’re a bit bummed because you didn’t have enough to pay back Mr. Shroomby for his hospitality, but you’ll figure out another way besides general chores.

Exiting the shop, you meander around the storefront and try to inconspicuously search for a particular crocodile. You see no sign of purple anywhere, so you climb down the steps and make for the Inn when you hear a chorus of Toads.

Further down the main street, a small congregation of the guys surround—well, if it isn’t Mr. Video Game himself.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but Mario looks like another normal, middle-aged guy. Maybe he’s a bit portly and on the short side, but you wouldn’t want the fabled hero of the Mushroom Kingdom any other way. He looks like a normal, nice guy.

Except he’s clearly frustrated, brows drawn together. He’s barely paying attention to the few guard Toads trailing behind him, failing to respond to their shrill questions. He just tips his trademark hat at them before hurrying directly toward the massive building on the far end of the main road.

Ah, right. This is probably the part where he tells the Chancellor about the missing princess and the giant sword. Then again, everyone and their mother knew about the latter - kinda hard to miss - so you figure he’ll just debrief his fight with Bowser for Princess Peach—er, Toadstool? Was she still called Toadstool...?

Maybe you’re a coward - you _totally_ are - but you remain in the shadows of the saloon’s walls as you watch the tiny crowd of guards and the plumber disappear toward the castle. You nearly breath a sigh of relief; you absolutely cannot afford to be seen by the _main character_. What lie would you tell him if you ran into him? ‘Hi, we’ve never met but I know about every major exploit of yours and I’m a huge fan’...? Not really a lie, but you have zero doubts you’d find a way to embarrass yourself in front of the one and only _Mario_.

...to say absolutely nothing if you ever met _Luigi_. Oh boy, you’d probably just die on the spot.

You can’t help the sigh of relief that comes when you shut the Inn’s door behind you, bell chiming overhead. Mr. Shroomby raises a bushy brow at you.

“My, my, it looks like you’ve seen a ghost, Urchin!”

You groan and hide your face in your hands. “...I’ve never seen Mario before.”

“Oh—?” The older Toad looks absolutely gleeful when he laughs. “Is someone a fan?”

“No; _yes_,” you drag your hands over your eyes. “_Ugh_...for a nice old man, you sure like teasing me.” You openly pout and the innkeeper just laughs again. You crack a small smile before stating, “I just—he absolutely _cannot_ know I exist.”

You meant it more literally than the light tone you used would give away, but it goes over Mr. Shroomby’s head as intended. He just wheezes out another cackle and surmises, “You’re too much of a worrywart; the lad’s a nice fellow. I’m sure he’d be glad to see one of his own, once in a while. Besides his brother and the Princess, o’ course.”

You’re...honestly not sure what to say. You guess being another human in a world where there’s only, like, a dozen or so of your species present is sort of a big deal. Again with the fact you can’t really remain innocuous among a proverbial sea of Toads.

So you just smile and laugh it off, same as Mr. Shroomby. A few more pleasantries are exchanged before another Toad walks in, and you bid farewell as you make your way upstairs.

Your money hidden and a fresh change of clothes later, you walk back down and wave goodbye to the innkeeper again. You call out that you’ll “be back in time for dinner,” before you crack the door and leave, noting the bemused look on the visiting Toad who’s walking up the stairs.

Idly, you wonder how quickly things will progress. If Mario’s already speaking with the Chancellor, then there’s a high possibility Mallow will arrive in town shortly. With Croco also out and about...well. Mallow’s probably going to get mugged as soon as he steps into the Mushroom Kingdom.

And then Mack will invade as soon as Mario and Mallow leave to beat up Croco.

...you do _not_ want to be present for that. You quash the guilt as you try to come up with a reason why you have to skip town - at least until Mario whoops Mack’s butt - but come up with nothing. Then again, the people were left mostly alone in their homes...maybe you could just wait it out in your hotel room?

What to do...what to do…

A bell rings above you as you enter the item shop. A few lingering customers line up at the front counter, and you patiently wait until it’s your turn.

“Howdy again, lil’ Urchin!” Mr. Mycil greets you cheerfully. “What can I do ya for?”

“Nothing much,” you say, wrestling the messenger baggy off your shoulders. Once free, you offer it to the older Toad. “Just returning this. Thanks for letting me borrow it, by the way.”

He accepts it, moving to place on a nearby shelf. “Not a problem; glad it was useful.”

Wanting to leave as soon as possible - there’s the chance you’d run into Mallow - you walk back toward the entrance. You’re about to wave goodbye to Mr. Mycil when the shopkeeper beats you to the punch.

“Speaking of which…” The old Toad begins and you internally wince. Wait; maybe this is a viable reason to leave! Perking back up, you wait for the shopkeeper to continue. “Is ol’ Shroomby done with you? I have something that needs to be seen to, and I figure you’d be the best fit for it, if it’s alright with you.”

“Does it involve leaving town?” You openly wince; too much!

“Yes,” Mr. Mycil confirms. “Indeed it does. Ol’ Shroomby told me about your lil’ ‘adventure,’ an’ I’m real sorry to hear it. If you don’t want to leave, I understand—”

“It’s fine,” you hurriedly bite out, thankful he took your crass words as hesitance instead of outright cowardice.

Mr. Mycil beams at you, mustache drawn upward. “Well then, I’m glad to see you wanting to explore some more. But down to business, I suppose. Y’see, I’m runnin’ low on my stock of Flowers and they’re abundant near Bandit’s Way. I figure since you’re somewhat familiar with the territory, you could pick a few. Nothin’ too hard; a storm’s brewin’ after all!”

In the resulting pause you peek out the front windows and sure enough, dark clouds are lingerings on the horizon.

Before taking your leave, Mr. Mycil offers you the same map and you decline it; can’t be too safe with a swindling purple crocodile around. But after ensuring you know what you’re looking for - those old-school fire flowers, apparently - you tell him you’ll try to be quick. He tells you to “get back safe and sound,” and you just smile as you shut the door behind you.

It’s only when you pass by the Inn on the way out of town do you realize you have nothing to hold the Flowers you’ll be collecting. Eh, you’ll make do.

Resigning yourself, you dip back into the Inn and greet Mr. Shroomby before letting him know you may not make back in time for dinner. You explain the errand Mr. Mycil gave you and the older Toad is somewhat worried, but altogether glad you’re “getting out more.”

“Before you go,” the innkeeper says, turning away to rummage with a cupboard, “I think this’ll come in handy.”

A few seconds later he plops a worn messenger bag onto the counter. It’s old and a bit dusty, but it looks sturdy enough. Gently, you take it and wrap it around your shoulders, enjoying the subtle heft of the plain yellow canvas. Resting a hand on it, you grin down at Mr. Shroomby. “Thank you so much! There’s a bunch of room, so I can pick up a lot of Flowers.”

The old Toad wheezes a laugh. “For bein’ younger than me, Mycil’s a forgetful old coot! Besides, I’m glad that ol’ thing can be of service; used it myself back in my adventurin’ days.”

You can’t stop the bemused expression that crosses your face and Mr. Shrooby laughs again. But he says nothing more and waves you out the door, wry grin hidden under his thick beard.

You don’t know how long it’s taken for you to speak with both Mr. Mycil and Mr. Shroomby, but the sun’s already a bit past the center of the sky. You’ve got several hours before nightfall. With that conclusion, you make for the town’s southern exit.

*** * * * * * ***

Groaning, you pluck the Flower and shove it into your bag. That makes about...eight total. Flipping the satchel open, you do a quick headcount and yep, that’s eight Flowers. Shrugging, you figure it’s good enough and pick yourself up.

You eye the few red and white blossoms left on the bush. Sure, you could just pluck them all, but then you know it’s better to leave a couple so they can still reproduce and spread; sustainability and all that. So you walk away from the few Flowers on the ground and begin making your way back to the Mushroom Kingdom. Luckily for your knee and unluckily for your plan to stay out here longer, the path back to town isn’t very long.

Thankfully, none of the monsters who’re hanging around give you so much as a passing glance. A couple of Goombas eye you before waddling the other way, and those weird dog-like things barely look at you before going back to ignoring you.

The further to get back to the Mushroom Kingdom, the less roaming monsters you see. It’s kind of odd, but you don’t really pay much attention to it considering they’re not really...welcome into town. You doubt the guard Toads holding spears twice as tall as them are just for show.

Just as you’re pushing past another huge bush, a chorus of familiar-sounding voices reach your ears.

“...said we had to keep lookout!”

“Yeah! And we can’t disobey orders!”

“But this is so boring! Everyone else is bouncing, so why can’t we?” Wait a sec, ‘_bouncing_’...?

It’s at that precise moment when your knee gives out a bit. You struggle to maintain your stillness, but the damage is done when the huge leaves hiding you rustle quite loudly as you catch yourself. Clutching the leash of your bag, you hold your breath when the squeaky voices suddenly cut out.

Then, “Did you hear that?”

Aaand that’s your cue to book it. Not even waiting to see who’s currently crying out in shock, you nearly trip over yourself and run further into Bandit’s Way, holding onto your bag like a lifeline. There’s shouts coming from behind you punctuated with rhythmic _thumps_, but you don’t stop to look.

You make it a good way’s away before your foot manages to catch on a stone embedded in the dirt. With a startled cry, gravity pulls you down into an undignified heap. Dammit, you _just_ bought these new clothes! You’ve only had them for a couple hours and more shit’s happening _already_?

_Thump, thump, THUMP_.

“Hey, hey, hey! Lookit who’s here!”

Wincing, you slowly open your eyes. Much to your chagrin, three Shy Guy-looking monsters hop in front of you on pogo-sticks. Pogo-sticks which have a very, very sharp end much like a sword. You swallow but your throat is too dry and you nearly choke instead. That icy feeling climbing up your spine and goosebumping your skin is one you’ve come to associate with dread.

You try not to linger on the gleaming metal and look up at your bullies.

One of the Shysters - that’s what they’re called, right? - hops on its sword-pogo-thing. “We should take this one back! It’ll be fun!” The other two croon with the suggestion and you wish the dirt would just swallow you up.

“Why not just have fun here? We’ll still be keeping lookout like Mack said.” Another Shyster hops excitedly. “Look! They can’t even walk, much less _bounce_!”

Your cheeks flush with shame when the three erupt into a fit of crude laughter. Idly, you wonder if Mallow ever made it into town. If he did, that probably means he already met up with Mario and left to pursue Croco. You look up at the sky and see the storm from earlier finally pulling in; maybe it was Mallow’s influence. You sorta hope so, since the pair would be around here somewhere. Selfishly, you want them to help you out of this hot mess.

Just about as you’re ready to try and get back onto your shaking legs, the trio of Shysters apparently decide play time is over. You barely have time to understand the depth of the situation when one of them bounces high, trajectory aiming directly for you. The sun is hidden behind dark clouds, but the glint coming off the sword’s tip is unmistakable.

Yelping in alarm, you hurriedly roll out of the way just as it impales the dirt. The pogo-stick has sunken into the ground by a few centimeters, but you know enough about basic anatomy that it would’ve hurt like hell had it actually met its mark in your flesh.

Gritting your teeth, you try to pry yourself from the ground. Unfortunately your knee gives and you crumple. Cursing under your breath, you barely register how the leader of the trio has launched itself again.

You shut your eyes and clench your teeth, but the sharp pain you’d associate with being stabbed never comes. Instead, the only thing that comes is a high-pitched whistle ringing through the air, followed by a solid _thwack_.

“_Yeowch_! What was—”

There’s a few more high-pitched whistling noises followed by cries of pain. It only takes several more rounds of this before you hear the trio of Shysters retreat, complaining about the dents they’d gotten. ‘Dents’...? Because they’re creations of Smithy and not organic? Weird.

“Oi.”

Ears ringing and slightly bewildered by the fact you didn’t just get skewered, you open your eyes to get a look at your apparent savior. You _thought_ you recognized that strange voice.

Holding its trusty slingshot is, presumably, the same Shy Guy you encountered the night before.

You stare up at it and silently adjust your position on the ground. Surprisingly, the Shy Guy is carding around a small backpack with what looks like a bed roll latched on top. Other than that, there’s hardly any difference compared to previously.

“...I see you’ve gotten better with that.” Really? _Really_? It saves you and you go and say _that_?

For as stagnant as its mask is, the Shy Guy is remarkably capable at making sure its frustration is known. It sighs. “...why do I even bother?”

“O-oh. I, um.” The words are forming perfectly fine in your brain, but your mouth refuses to cooperate. You blame the adrenaline. “Uhhh...sorry. A-and thank you, for. Y’know. Saving me.” Wow. That sounded a lot less lame in your head.

The Shy Guy doesn’t immediately respond, but its mask continues staring down at you. It—okay, no. How about you just ask _who_ this Shy Guy is instead of just assuming like a jackass.

Trying again, you stutter out, “Really. I mean—thanks, Mr…?” You wince; you have zero idea if this Shy Guy is, well, a dude. In your defense, most _Mario_-brand monsters tend to not have much sexual dimorphism.

The Shy Guy sniffs at you. “Nice guess. Also, took you long enough to be decent and _ask_. Then again, you couldn’t even pronounce my name even if you tried.” Oh, okay. You suppose it makes sense; Shy Guys have their own language and all that. The words also make you smile a bit, since they remind you of Geno’s introduction.

The smile is short lived when the Shy Guy takes the moment to whack the top of your head with his slingshot.

You hiss and clutch the tender spot while the Shy Guy replaces the offending weapon to his belt. Disregarding your pain, he simply states, “_That’s_ for last night.”

“Jerk,” you mutter, a weary grin pulling at your lips despite the pain.

“Well,” the Shy Guy begins, “that’s one problem sorted out. Now for the next: What do you know about that giant sword?”

Welp, there goes that warm, fuzzy feeling of surviving. Did you let something slip last night or something? Curling in on yourself, you ask, “You’ve been looking for me?”

The deadpan stare on the Shy Guy’s mask is deafening. “Not too difficult, all things considered; humans stick out like a sore thumb. And I’m not gonna repeat myself.”

Ignoring the fact he does not, in fact, have thumbs, you hesitate. No lies immediately come to mind, and slowly but surely the air between you two grows thick with tension. Probably only on your part, since a quick glance shows the eye holes of his mask are slowly moving - _moving_! - to being half-lidded.

“...did your mask just move?”

The Shy Guy’s eyes - eyes? - remain lidded as he slaps his hands over them. “...stars above, _why_?”

Although a bit miffed because he was indirectly insulting you, you decide to place your trust in this Shy Guy. Totally because he saved your butt from being skewered and not because he’s of a very, very adorable species. Yeah.

He beats you to it. Eyes now slightly narrowed, he states, “I’m not an idiot; you recognized that sword when it fell from the sky. I wanna know why.”

“Uhh,” you drawl. “I don’t—it’s called Exor.” Huh, yeah! That’ll get him to trust you!

“You—you know—” The Shy Guy sputters, eyes now back to normal. “What are you, its spy or something?”

Trying to ignore his seething, you helplessly shrug and try to pull yourself out of the hole you’ve dug. You fail, of course. “I—no! If I was, why would those Shysters attack me?! _They’re_ the invaders, not me!”

“‘Shysters,’” the Shy Guy repeats under his breath. He growls before his hand goes back to his slingshot. “You know what those knock-offs are called too? Care to explain _how_?”

“They work for Smithy!” You wince and curse. “I mean—Smithy makes them, manufactures them from his factory—the giant sword; Exor’s the factory!” The more you listen to yourself, the less coherent your words become. You can’t even fathom what it’s like from the Shy Guy’s perspective.

Shifting in the dirt, you groan. Mimicking his earlier actions, you cover your face and try to connect your thoughts into something understandable.

“Okay,” you start. “Okay. Look; I know I sound like a crazy person—”

“At least you admit it.”

“—_let me finish_. Anyways, I know all this stuff because…” You take a slow breath. “...oh my god. I’m _absolutely_ gonna sound completely bonkers, but: everything’s familiar because I’ve seen it all before. Like,” you wave your hands sporadically, “in visions, and stuff.”

You hope that’s a good enough explanation, since you really, _really_ don’t want to tell him that you’re from an entirely different world where this is all just some fictional story. That would make you sound even more like a lunatic—

“That’s it?” You stare at the Shy Guy and find the half-lidded eyes are back. He sounds distinctly unimpressed. “So you’re just a seer or something?”

“Um.” Eyes wide you ask, “Is—are seers...common…?”

“Oh yeah,” the Shy Guy remarks. “Tons like to pretend, at least. Brings in the big bucks, if you know what I mean.” He gives you a once-over and you shy away into the dirt. “I’d love to pretend you’re just like the rest, but you do have some credibility.”

“Uh, what ‘credibility’ are you talking about, exactly?”

“Well,” the Shy Guy begins, hands now folded over his chest, “there’s how you responded to the sky darkening. I didn’t know what was going on, but _you_ didn’t hesitate to look directly at Bowser’s place off in the distance to watch the show. Then there’s what happened after. Again, I was busy looking at the sword before I noticed you still looking up at the sky and, sure enough, those shooting stars fell. Then there’s the fact you weren’t looking at the green one so much as where it was gonna land…”

You dryly swallow; this Shy Guy is certainly no slouch in the observant department. If anything, you’re a little glad that this might be enough evidence to convince him you’re not completely crazy.

“...and that was before its trajectory was established,” the Shy Guy finishes. He nods once as if impressed with his analysis and honestly, you can’t blame him. Impressive indeed.

You purse your lips. “Is that all you wanted to—to ask me, or…?”

The Shy Guy looks you over. “Sort of. I did end up getting some of my answers, but now I’m even more curious. Seers - _real_ seers - are about as rare as you humans are, so I’m obviously still skeptical. Considering how you seem to generally know about all this—” he gestures around him, “—I’m wondering how much you _do_ know.”

Your butt is beginning to ache. “Why do you care so much?”

Ah, yes; another deadpan stare followed by yet another sigh. “A foreign power has invaded our world and you just asked why I care?”

You wince. That was a bit of a slip-up on your part; can’t let him know you’re not from his world, because that would eventually segway into the world you’re from, and then...well. Being told you’re nothing but fictional can’t blow over smoothly. You blame the fatigue of everything that’s happened within the past 24 hours.

“Sorry,” you blab. “Just...tired. And I guess I wanted to know why _you_ care about what _I_ know.”

The Shy Guy lets out a derisive snort. “Our home is being threatened. If you really know everything that’s gonna happen, why not try and, I dunno, stop these things from happening in the first place? Y’know, prove your merit.”

Huh. Strangely heroic for a _Yoshi’s Island_ mook. Then again, who are you to judge whether or not the general _Mario_ monster didn’t care about their home as much as the titular hero himself? They’re shown to be completely sentient, after all.

“Or,” he continues, “you really have no clue like the rest of us. Which is what I think is going on here.”

“No. I...” Idly rubbing your swollen knee, you bite your lip. “Look; the Smithy Gang—I mean, them and Exor are already here; nothing can be done besides…” What? Destroy everything they’ve built? Eventually kill them like Smithy…?

You shrug helplessly. “Nothing I can really do, anyway. You already saw I can’t even defend myself. And I don’t wanna be caught up in all...this. _So_, my foreknowledge - which is real, by the way - is useless.”

“Debatable.” You look up and watch the Shy Guy shift his bag before he goes on to say, “Humor me, then. What was up with those shooting stars?”

“Pieces of the Star Road,” you recite, remembering the conversation between Mario, Mallow and Geno. Deciding to preempt the next probable question, you explain, “As far as I know, the Star Road is what grants wishes. Considering Exor shattered it...no more wishes can be granted. Or something; I don’t understand the specifics.”

The Shy Guy nods once. “I’ve heard legends of the place, so you’re not a complete liar.” Wow, thanks for that vote of confidence, jerk. He continues regardless of your internal comments. “So what’s gonna happen to these Star Road pieces?”

“I mean,” you start, pulling your knees in to rest your chin on them, “if everything goes as expected, we don’t have to worry too much. Mario will gather the Star Pieces and defeat Smithy, so the world will be saved. The standard fare, as far as I know.”

“‘Course,” the Shy Guy agrees, albeit snidely. After a moment he questions, “Did the Smithy Gang destroy Star Road to make their takeover easier? Y’know, so no one can wish them away or something like that?”

“I…” You have absolutely zero idea, but that hypothesis sounds about right, if you had to guess. Which you do, since you don’t know everything. “I dunno. Like I said, I’m not too clear about the whole ‘wish-granting’ thing. Even without the Star Road, Mario still manages to save the day and isn’t that just...free will…? Like, he just goes and does it, right? No wishes or anything.”

You startle when the Shy Guy releases a barking laugh. It’s short but endearingly cute.

“Y’know what? You’re not so bad, human. Even if I don’t really believe you.”

“‘Human?’” You snort. “So do I call you ‘Shy Guy’ or what? I have a name, you know. And I’m pretty sure you can pronounce it considering we’re speaking the same language right now.”

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles. “And it’s not the same, since there’s hundreds of us Shy Guys and you’re one of...what? Three humans?”

“Four, actually.” Of course everyone and their mother forgets about Luigi. “In the Mushroom Kingdom specifically.” Then there’s Booster and Valentina, right? “But...hmm...y’know what? Since I apparently can’t pronounce your real name, how about nicknames? I go by ‘Urchin’ in town.”

After a little back-and-forth with the Shy Guy questioning why you’re referred to as Urchin - “because I love marine biology and also I’m currently bumming off the Inn owner,” basically - he hesitantly agrees. Sure, maybe you’re just making a new friend, but it’s sort of odd when he’s made it somewhat clear he wants something from you. Being the lonely loser you are, his companionship seems like a fair exchange.

“Urchin, huh? It’s alright, I guess.” He shifts his bag in front of him and pokes through its contents for a brief moment before nodding to himself. “Judging by how you talk about it, you feel bad about rooming for free.” You nod and he continues, “I think I might have a solution.”

He pauses. “I still don’t fully believe you’re a seer, but you seem to at least know more than you let on. You don’t like being in debt, much less taking action into your own hands.”

You nod along, despite how his words make you feel even smaller than him. Yes, you’re a coward; get on with it.

“How about we strike a deal?”

While a bit skeptical but also a bit curious - is this gonna be another forced side-quest? - you decide to hear him out.

The Shy Guy doesn’t hold back. “If you don’t like bumming around the Mushroom Kingdom, why not travel with me? You won’t have any more debts and you’d also have the chance to prove me wrong about your foreknowledge. It’d be mutually beneficial; you won’t be freeloading and I won’t have to sit back and take whatever the Smithy gang or whoever dishes out. The travel expenses—” he pats his heavy bag, “—are all paid for. You just have to tell me what’s what, and I do all the heavy lifting if need be.”

That’s...that’s a lot to take in. Sure, you wouldn’t have to feel guilty every time you see Mr. Shroomby, but you’d be throwing away a comfortable life as an NPC. Besides, the only thing that threatened the Mushroom Kingdom was Mack, and that’s within the first...what? Hour of the game? So you don’t have to worry for long…

But you kinda _do_ owe this Shy Guy for saving your sorry ass from being impaled by a pogo-stick-sword thing. And then there’s the fact you don’t know why you’re in the world of _Super Mario RPG_; maybe knowing would lessen—

You glance up and see him offering you a hand.

...eh, why not? You can still avoid most of the dangers if you stay away from Mario and his gang. Considering how he acted when you brought up the famous plumber, you doubt the Shy Guy worships Mushroom Kingdom’s hero. Proving him wrong would just be a nice bonus; let it be known that spite is a _great_ motivator.

You smile and accept it.

After a bit of maneuvering, you get back up on your sore feet. A cursory check of your bag shows the Flowers are for the most part unscathed. Maybe a few of them are a bit flat, but they still look good enough to be put up in a store.

Closing the flap on your satchel, you look down at the Shy Guy. “...so, about your nickname—how about Shyster?”

He sputters. “Like those jumping assho—after those _cheap knock-offs_?”

Trying and failing to stop the giggles, you go on. “Yeah! Not because I think you’re an asshole or anything—” You ignore the shrill “_What_?!” and continue, “—but because I think it’s a neat name! Also, I’m terrible at coming up with names, so. Food for thought.”

You can practically feel the glower, but he resigns himself with a tart, “Fine; whatever.”

After a quick pause, Shyster - yeah, it definitely suits him - perks up again. “...Isn’t the Mushroom Kingdom on fire or something?”

“Uh. No…?” You look up at the sky and see the stormy gray clouds hanging above the town. “Hopefully not. At any rate, Mack and his cohorts are probably still hanging around. I still have to return these Flowers to Mr. Mycil...and I wanna check up on both him and Mr. Shroomby. Do...do you wanna come with?”

“...I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Shyster says, shrugging. “Y’know, since I look like the guys currently invading and also have their name, apparently.”

“But you don’t have a pogo-sword-stick—”

“—but a deal’s a deal,” he concludes. “Just try to stay behind me, since I’m a ranged fighter.”

And with that, the two of you set off for the Mushroom Kingdom.

*** * * * * * ***

Slamming the door behind you, Shyster doesn’t wait to berate you.

“What was that?!” His voice, although always muffled by his mask, is still pretty dang loud. “You practically painted a target on your back, and therefore mine!”

“...oops,” is all you manage to retort.

Sure, maybe that didn’t go quite as planned. Then again, it’s not like you expected to run into both Mario and Mallow during the trek back to town, much less have to protect Shyster against their advances. And maybe that happened because you were quick to both explain Mushroom Kingdom’s takeover by Shysters and also calling your pal Shyster in the same breath. So. Totally fair of them to think you’re canoodling with the enemy.

“And then you had to blurt the head-honcho’s name! ‘Oh, by the way, Mack’s at the castle and he’s weak against lightning magic.’” Shyster’s impression of you is not stellar, but it’s scathing nonetheless. “For someone who doesn’t want to meddle, you sure like sticking your neck out!”

Holding your hands up defensively, you bite your lip. “So I might have made some mistakes—”

“‘Might’?!”

“—but hey! Bright side is that we can avoid them easier since they don’t...er, trust us…?”

“Or maybe they’ll hunt the both of us down because we’re sketchy! It certainly doesn’t help matters I already look like the guys stomping around like a bunch of idiots! Do you _like_ starting trouble, or something?”

A cough interrupts you.

You and Shyster turn to the withered, gray-capped Toad standing behind the counter. Mr. Shroomby merely raises a bushy brow. “Lil’ Urchin, may I ask who this fellow is?”

Before Shyster can speak, you spit out, “He’s a friend! He, uh. Actually, he saved me from being impaled, so...yeah.”

The innkeeper’s eyebrow doesn’t drop.

It takes some back and forth between you three - mostly you defending Shyster again - but you manage to get Mr. Shroomby to trust the Shy Guy until further notice. After all, you did run into the safety of the inn since real Shysters are still bouncing up and down the town’s streets, harassing any unlucky Toad to still be outside.

Knowing that Mario is currently on the job, the three of you pass the time by talking. Mainly, you and Shyster explaining your deal while also withholding information that you could be considered a seer. The short of it is telling Mr. Shroomby that you feel the best way to repay his kindness is to leave and not bother him again.

“...I’m sorry you feel that way, Urchin.” The old Toad shakes his head. “You’ve been nothin’ but welcome around here, regardless if you didn’t pay a cent. Did your fair share and more, even.”

You stare down at your clasped hands on your lap. “...sorry.”

The innkeeper sighs, beard wisping with the breath. “You’ve never been a bother. I suppose I’ll miss your help and your company even more, but it wouldn’t be right to stay here unless you really wanted to.”

You’re not sure what to say to that. Do you even _want_ to stay…? You don’t even know how that would work out in the long run.

Avoiding the stare Shyster is leveling at you, you merely shrug your shoulders. “I...I don’t know, to be honest. I like it here, don’t get me wrong, but...staying is…”

“I understand.” You glance up at the old Toad and he returns it. “Sitting around, doin’ nothing besides chores; that’s not what you want to do, is it?”

You bite your lip, resisting the urge to respond. _It doesn’t matter what I want to do because_—

Mr. Shroomby sighs again. “You young’uns should spend your life doin’ what you want while you can. Old folk like me have done the same, you know. I can freely relax because I’ve already seen much of what this world has to offer. But you...lil’ Urchin, your adventure’s just beginning.”

Shyster says nothing, idly fiddling with the slingshot attached to his belt. You’re in the same boat.

After a moment, Mr. Shroomby asks, “Would you like to hear what I think you should do?”

Having no reply, you settle for nodding.

“I think you should go.”

Your head snaps up and you try to quell the shock. The innkeeper guffaws, loud and hearty, before continuing. “I may be old, but I like to think I’m still sharp in the mind. Y’see, humans are a rare sight in these lands, and ones none have ever seen before? Strange, and highly unlikely to boot.”

You swallow but your throat is dry. From your peripheral, you see Shyster has stopped fiddling with his weapon.

Mr. Shroomby goes on, voice the most serious you’ve heard. “Lil’ Urchin, I reckon you’re here for a reason.”

Your breath shudders but the Toad pays no mind, instead saying, “I don’t know where you’ve come from, but I know enough to realize you’re not from around these parts.” He tilts his head at you. “Do you mind me askin’ where you come from?”

“I…” You struggle to speak the truth, but your throat is like a vice. Because saying the words will make this all _real_. You’re not sure if you can accept that. But you can’t deny how much less you’ll have to carry if you just let it out.

“...it doesn’t matter; not really. I...I don’t think I can ever go back.” …_unless I join the main characters on their journey and discover why I’m their world in the first place. Only then can a typical self-insert go back home_.

The innkeeper hums thoughtfully. “Then make a new home here. And what better way to get acquainted with your new home then to explore it! _Har har har_!” His laughs die out when you only crack a pitiful smile in return. “O’ course, that’s just the ol’ adventurer in me talkin’.”

“I don’t get it.” Both you and Mr. Shroomby turn to the sole Shy Guy. His mask is pointed toward you while he states, “The old man’s got a point, you know. From what I’ve seen, you’re fine being a bystander in your own life. Why not do as he suggests and put your money where your mouth is?”

You grimace, hearing the double-meaning behind his words. ‘Prove me wrong, I dare you.’ Hmph.

Still...you think the innkeeper’s right. There has to be a reason why you woke up in the outskirts of the Mushroom Kingdom, after all. What better way to figure all these self-insert shenanigans than to do what all self-inserts do?

“Okay,” you finally breath. “Okay. I’ll go. But I still gotta give these Flowers to Mr. Mycil before I do.”

You can’t see the grin beneath Mr. Shroomby’s bushy beard, but you can hear it in his voice, clear as day. “That’s the spirit, Urchin.”

Besides, you sincerely doubt you’ll have been able to live a benign life here in town. Too many times have you been pushed into plot-driven situations for it _not_ to be coincidental.

Abruptly, a ruckus breaks through the lull. Your trio walks up to the window to see a flurry of movement, specifically a hoard of Shysters running through the streets. Maybe Mack was already defeated—

You clamor to the side, out of sight, when two familiar figures chase down the remaining invaders.

Glancing down at Shyster, you muster, “I think we’ll be leaving sooner rather than later.”

With that, you scurry back up the stairs to your room. Since a part of your morning routine is to also tidy up your own suite, everything is pretty organized and easy to pack. Then again, you don’t have many belongings to begin with, aside from a few spare changes of clothes and basic hygiene products.

Cradling all your goods in the baggy given to you when you went shopping earlier, you limp back down the stairs. Hushed voices greet your ears and you pause to listen.

“...they’re a good kid. Keep good on your promise.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. I won’t let anything happen to ‘em.”

With an exaggerated huff, you continue limping down the wooden stairs. The voices go dead quiet and you ignore it in favor of maintaining your balance. As soon as you step off onto the floor, you go to remove the satchel Mr. Shroomby allowed you to borrow—

“Now, that won’t be necessary.” You look down at the Toad and find him gently but firmly pressing your hand into the leash of the bag. He then opens it and removes all the Flowers you collected. Looking up at you, he asks, “Didn’t I tell you earlier that this’ll come in handy? Use it on your journey; it’ll only gather dust here.”

The stinging behind your eyes is definitely not the start of tears. It’s _not_.

“I—” Leaning down, you wrap your arms around the smaller Toad, careful to not crush the Flowers. “...thank you so, so much, Mr. Shroomby. For everything. I-I’ll miss you.”

“Urchin...if you ever come back,” the innkeeper says, “you’ll always be welcome here.”

You pry yourself away from the old Toad who had taken you in. He nods at you once before saying, “I’ll make sure these get into ol’ Mycil’s hands, so don’t worry over nothin’ you worrywart. I’ll even say goodbye in your steed. Now go on, get. While there’s still sunlight.”

Mr. Shroomby then looks at Shyster, an unspoken message being relayed. The Toad nods once more, and the Shy Guy returns it with a quiet sigh.

Just as you’re about to turn your back and exit the comfy inn, Mr. Shroomy clears his throat.

“Why not pay a visit to Seaside Town?” Barely, you can make out a toothy grin beneath the gray bushy mustache. “The ocean is somethin’ you have to see fer yourself.”

You return his grin with one of your own. “Don’t worry; it’s on the ol’ bucket list.”

The bell chimes overhead before the door shuts, muting the familiar melody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who woulda thunk that Shy Guy would end up as more than a cameo? 
> 
> (Also Croco, but he's not something I can make from pre-existing assets to do with as I please; he's already got character! And a fun one to boot!)
> 
> On a completely unrelated note, Shy Guys are basically my favorite character designs in the history of, like, ever. I mean they check all the boxes required for me to go "Ah yes, a new favorite has been added to my collection:" Small? _Check_. Cute Mask? _Check_. Showing very little or no skin? _But of course_.
> 
> ...on another note, I really enjoyed writing reader's interactions with Shyster because snark is never out of style. Hopefully you'll enjoy what I have planned for these two! And don't worry about the lack of Mario and Mallow: reader's luck when it comes to avoiding them is...bad, to say the least.
> 
> On the bright side, everyone's favorite star spirit shows up next time!


	3. Hidden Current

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on empirical evidence, reader is pretty good at running away in spite of their bum knee.

“Were you really that desperate to leave? Just ‘cause you didn’t want Mr. Jump Man himself knocking at your door?”

“I—no,” you deny, looking anywhere but the mask tilted disapprovingly at you. “It was called Mushroom Suite #3, to be exact. And—and maaaybe you’re right. But you don’t seem like his biggest fan either.”

Shyster scoffs, grumbling under his breath in his own tongue. He then takes a moment to shift his backpack until it’s more comfortable. He then wastes no time is agreeing. “Sure, we can always rely on good ol’ mustachio to save our hides, but if he even _thinks_ you’re getting in his way...you tend to get stomped.”

Well, you suppose that explains their conflicts of interest.

“Says the guy who assaulted and then threatened to rob me,” you quip.

Shyster grumbles some more. Shooting an angry look at you, he growls, “It was an _accident_. Besides, I’ve never been under the plumber’s boots. In fact, _you’re_ the only one who’s wholloped my head!”

“I’m glad the honor’s all mine.” Ignoring the Shy Guy’s angry retorts, you shift your bag; since leaving, Shyster was quick to dump some of his stuff onto you. He was also quick to pester you about where the ‘next big event’ is happening, and you obliged him by telling him how Mario and Mallow should be heading off to see Frogfucius. Idly, you hope they kicked Buster’s ass before they did Croco’s.

“So…” You look down at your companion, who’s now crossing his arms in disdain. “Where should we set up camp? Nightfall’s gonna be here in less than an hour, and I’ve never set up a tent in darkness before...much less in daylight.”

The two of you made it through Bandit’s Way with no incidents. You even showed him where that warp pipe is so you could get closer to the next plot point at Tadpole Pond. As it is, you’re currently stomping around Rose Way.

“Great,” Shyster intones, “so you have no idea what you’re doing? Why’d you even agree to come along?”

You shrug half-heartedly. “Honestly? Spite, for the most part.”

Shyster scoffs, but it sounds like an amused sound more than anything. He pauses, glancing around at your surroundings and—oh. You recognize this spot: it’s where you first met the Shy Guy. Have you really travelled that far already? No wonder your knee feels ready to cave in.

“Alright.” You look down and watch Shyster dump his backpack onto the grass. “This is as good as spot as any; safe and relatively out of the way. Let’s pitch the tent.”

So that’s what you do—er, try to do, anyways. In the dying light of the sun, you try your hardest to lend a hand to Shyster, who eventually grows so fed up with your inability he just demands you let him take care of it. ‘Go rest that wet noodle you call a knee,’ he said. You oblige him, handing him the necessary equipment and try to commit his actions to memory.

After a few minutes, a sturdy-looking green tent is up and...well, not running, but whatever. It looks about as big as those homes in Moleville appear, which is something you find surprising. Why would a small Shy Guy need a tent clearly large enough to comfortably house a human? One size fits all…? Or more ‘convenience for self-insert’ shenanigans, you guess.

Once the curtain of dusk darkens until only the stars are shining, you and Shyster sit around a small fire, eating dinner.

Sure, it was pretty weird watching his mask move to actually emote, but watching the Shy Guy eat? That’s something else entirely. It’s actually a lot less enthralling than you thought it’d be, but seeing the mouth hole of his mask expand and contract whenever he took a bite is a bit unsettling.

“...do you _mind_? I’m trying to eat here.”

Snapping back into reality, you swallow your own bite of bread. “Uh, sorry. I’ve never seen a Shy Guy eat before.”

“Obviously.” He chomps at the last bit of his bread before moving on to his jerky. You find there’s nary a sound when he chews...if he does at all. Huh. “It’s like you’ve never seen a Shy Guy at all.”

“I mean…” You shrug and shift on the ground, trying to think up an excuse.

“Makes sense,” Shyster beats you to the punch. “Most of us are pretty reclusive. Y’know, being ‘Shy Guys’ and all. I even come from a hidden village myself.”

You lean forward, suddenly more invested in his words than your dinner. Setting your own bread and jerky aside, you ask, “Did you leave?” Shyster wastes zero time to give you an unimpressed look and you rectify it by continuing, “I mean, obviously you did, but...I dunno, why? Did you just want to travel or something?”

Shyster finishes off his food and rubs his hands of any leftover crumbs. “Pretty nosy, huh? Guess even seers don’t know everything.”

You roll your eyes. “Not like I know every little bit of trivia for everything in existence. I only know what I’ve seen before, and my memory isn’t infallible you know.”

“So even if you weren’t bogus, there’s no guarantee we won’t be running around in circles?”

You shoot him an offended glare. “Giant swords are hard to forget. Y’know, like most living weapons. I know what I’m doing, sheesh.”

Shyster takes your words at face value, which is surprising because he paints himself as a thief and also because he doesn’t even have a face. Well, according to some vague trivia here and there. Their masks seem expressive enough.

“...did you really feel that bad about rooming off of the old man? Or is it just spite putting you here?”

“I—” You cut yourself off, staring down at your lap. You glance off in the distance at the silhouette of Exor. Yep, still sticking out of the mountain Bowser’s Keep is built atop of. “Well, I wasn’t lying when I said spite is a pretty big factor, but…I dunno. Maybe fading away into obscurity scared me. Maybe I wanted to do something worthwhile. Who knows.”

A couple of sounds come from Shyster’s side of the campfire. A moment later, he offers you a small plastic cup filled with water. You thank him and stare at the water instead.

“I dunno,” you repeat, because it’s as close to the truth as you’re willing to get. “I just...I always thought I’d drift through life as no one special, that I’d never be anything more than, well, me. That I’d never do anything outstanding, or—” You eye your tiny reflection in the water, how it ripples with all your movements. “...yeah. Maybe this is my only shot at being useful. Can’t know unless I try, right?”

You take a sip and see Shyster do the same. The fire cracks and flickers, filling the quiet.

“...yeah,” the Shy Guy quietly agrees. He takes another drink before stating, “I left my home for similar reasons, I guess. Was tired of seeing days go by without doing anything, so I tried something else for a change. Turns out I actually enjoy exploring and what-not.”

“Hopefully I don’t ruin the experience for you,” falls from your mouth before you can filter it.

Shyster just hums thoughtfully. “Yet to be seen.”

“Fair enough.”

With that the two of you settle into a comfortable silence. You opt to finish what’s left of your dinner, reveling in the warmth of the tiny fire. For having such nice weather earlier, the nights sure are chilly around these parts.

As soon as you’re both done, you clean up while he puts out the campfire. With only starlight illuminating what you’re doing, you watch Shyster crawl into the tent and offer one last look at the brilliant sky before following. Inside the tent is a bit cramped with the two of you, being about as big as a twin-sized mattress, but you’re small and he’s even smaller so it works out just fine.

Shyster sets up the sleeping mat for himself, but he’s nice enough to offer you a quilt since you don’t have anything to keep warm. He also takes out a sleeping bag and crawls into it, scooting away from you until he’s nearly flush with the other side. You do the same, using your yellow bag as your pillow. A bit uncomfortable, but it’ll do.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “And good night.”

“...g’night,” Shyster mumbles back.

*** * * * * * ***

Turns out, the world at large is a lot bigger than it appears in-game. Then there’s also the teensy fact that there’s no option to quick-travel through different places, so you’re stuck traversing everything on foot.

All in all, you’ve been stumbling around Rose Way for a few days. Heck, you’ve even wandered into Rose Town for a brief spell to restock on goods with the coins you’ve earned by ransacking a few chests. Then again, having a party consisting of more than one person tended to attract enemy attention, and video game logic dictates fights will break out. Luckily Shyster has kept to his word and warded off everything that’s come at you two, even those other Shy Guys guarding those chests. You had felt pretty bad about the whole thing until Shyster mentioned ‘might makes right around here.’

After only a couple days of repeating the process - “a good way to get fast cash,” Shyster had remarked as he shot down a fellow Shy Guy - you had more than enough coins to even stay the night at Rose Town’s Inn if you wanted to. But you never did because the citizens knew the rough and tumble ways of the Rose Way denizens.

“A bunch of crooks,” the store owner had mentioned. “They’ll mug you dry.”

Well, if anything it certainly explained Shyster’s incessence that you be the one to buy more supplies. And also why he was so against spending the night at the Inn. But you shrugged it off and did as he said because you don’t want to be lonely; not anymore.

Then again, it would be pretty weird seeing Gaz and his mom, maybe even the Geno doll. Still trying to stay away from all the main characters, thank you very much.

“Sooo…” you begin, trailing off as a high-pitched whistle cracks the air. A second later and a cry of pain echoes off the large boulders lining the clearing, followed by a muffled thump. You watch as the poor Shy Guy throws a dirty look at Shyster before scampering off into the brush.

Stashing his slingshot, he says, “You gonna finish that thought, or are you gonna get those coins?”

Rolling your eyes, you obey and balance on the tile. True to the game, it just sort of...floats by while you stand on it. As soon as it passes under the chest, you hop and hit the underside of the similarly floating chest. A few golden coins fall out and into Shyster’s waiting hands. At this point, this might as well be routine.

When the tile makes it to a large boulder, you scoot off it and make your way over to Shyster. Brushing your shorts off, you ask, “Is there any reason why you’re bullying those poor Shy Guys, or…?”

He barely looks at you. “Never hurts to have more money. And besides, what better way to practice my aim than on stationary targets?”

“I mean, you’re a lot better than when I first met you. Haven’t seen you hurl your slingshot since—ouch!”

You watch him put away his weapon again, rubbing your thigh. “I see you’re also getting faster at drawing that thing.”

He mutes a snicker before shrugging innocently. “Just means I’m getting the hang of it. Better to be prepared than not.” He glances around the clearing and nods. “That was the last one, and we’re 20 more coins cushier for it. We should probably head back to camp before _we_ get robbed.”

You sidle up to Shyster, keeping close. “I know you grew up in a hidden village, but why hang around Rose Way? I thought it was just a bunch of thieves and bandits here. Y’know, besides there being Bandit’s Way up yonder.”

Shyster snorts, shifting his bag. ‘Camp’ is really just shorthand for ‘flat ground perfect for the tent.’ Then he states, “Not to defend myself, but everyone needs coins and stealing is something I’m good at. What better place for free money than between two well-off towns with lots of trade between them?”

You just shrug; you suppose it makes sense, but having sticky fingers was never one of your strong suits. The only thing you’re good at is being exceptionally clumsy.

“So when’s our pals Mr. Jumpy and Marshmallow gonna arrive?”

Shoving some leaves out of your face, you reply, “I told you, Mario and Mallow have to make it through the Kero Sewers and then go down the Midas River. You’re lucky I even showed you that pipe.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shyster says, pushing past another bush. “How convenient we’re days ahead of schedule. And they’re going through the _sewers_? Really?”

Don’t you know? Every massive RPG has a sewer-based level. But you don’t voice these thoughts and just shrug. “They also have to beat Belome, so there’s that.” Shyster turns back and you continue, interrupting him, “Belome’s this...thing that lives in the sewers. Trust me, describing him would be a nightmare.”

“Oh.” More walking, more overly large leaves to pass through. “Never heard of the guy.”

The two of you meander through Rose Way until the paths even out into the open fields before the massive lake of Tadpole Pond.

“—why didn’t you ask for that map? I thought you liked water or whatever; how can you _not_ read maps?”

You sigh, voice dry from non-stop bickering. “Look, it only detailed Bandit’s Way and nothing else, so it wouldn’t have been super useful. Also, I said I like marine biology, not cartography!”

“See?” Shyster points an accusing...hand at you. “You even know the fancy word for it! We shoulda got the thing before we left the Mushroom Kingdom—_hrrk_!”

You pull Shyster back, hurriedly slapping a hand over his mask. Honestly, you have no idea if that’ll actually keep him quiet, so you add on a harsh “shush!” for emphasis. He stops squabbling and stares ahead where you’re pointing.

Sure enough, near the palm tree-lined entrance are two familiar figures.

Both of you crouch - well, you do since you’re taller - behind another of those obnoxiously large bushes, watching. You creep behind a boulder for good measure; if you can hear them then they can probably see you. Then again, the only words seem to be coming from Mallow. Maybe Mario is a silent protagonist like he is in the game…? Weird.

You continue watching, even after the pair walks further and further into the palm trees. When you can’t see them, you turn to Shyster, but he beats you.

“They’re finally here. So what now, _seer_?”

“First of all: rude.” You nearly smack the top of his hood but resist the temptation. Something about this feisty Shy Guy makes you want to both punt him off a cliff and also hug him uncontrollably. “And second: they’re gonna talk to Frogfucius, Mallow’s gonna find out he’s not a tadpole, and—”

“Hold on; what?” Ah, the return of the half-lidded eyes of incredulousness. “You mean the marshmallow-looking kid thinks he’s a tadpole? Y’know, those black things that become _frogs_? He’s so short and squat I’d be surprised if he even has _legs_.”

You shoot him a quick glare before shrugging. “Honestly? Debatable on the legs thing. You should see how he casts spells.”

“Anyways—” you pointedly ignore Shyster’s attempt at a reply, “—as I was saying, they’re gonna learn about—actually, I don’t think I told you they picked up a Star Piece when they defeated Mack. So they’re gonna ask about that and go looking for Mallow’s real parents since he’s...well, obviously not a tadpole. Then they come through here because Rose Town is also going to come under fire.” You pause, giggling under your breath. “_Hee hee_…‘under fire.’”

Shyster nods along for the most part, clearly not believing you 100%. More like he’s using you as guidance for his own, unshared conclusions. He stops when you start babbling about Rose Town. “Wait; they’re coming through here? _Soon_?”

You just nod. “Yeah. Then they find out Rose Town and its citizens are being used for target practice...y’know, on that note, I think you and Bowyer would get along—_ow_!”

You hop away, holding in a curse while Shyster kicks his shoe like he just stomped on something dirty. He glares at you, seething, “I don’t know who Bowyer is, but if he’s going to bother Rose Town then he has to be one of the Smithy Gang. And don’t you _dare_ put me in league with those a—”

“Okay, okay! Jeez!” Holding up your hands defensively, you gather your thoughts. “But you’re right; Bowyer’s another of Smithy’s generals. He’s in charge of a bunch of arrows and he fires them at the townspeople, which paralyze them. The last time we stocked up on goods—”

“The day before yesterday. Is this why you refused to enter the last couple days?”

“—right. I don’t think we’ll be able to get more until Mario and company have finished him off,” you finish, ignoring his last comment.

Shyster pauses. “Mario and ‘company’? You mean that marshmallow?”

You wilt a bit under his gaze. “Ah...no. Another person joins them once they defeat Bowyer. In fact, he helps them! He also knows a _lot_ more about what the Star Road is and its place in all this, so there’s that.”

The Shy Guy remains impassive, even going so far as crossing his stubby arms. “Uh-huh. Are we talking about another seer or something?”

“‘Or something,’” you smile. This is the perfect opportunity to prove him wrong! Geno’s existence is something you _really_ can’t come up with unless you actually know what’s going on. Ha! You’ll make Shyster eat his words.

“...why’re you grinning like that? On second thought, I don’t wanna know.”

“Good.” You gesture back to camp and he follows, albeit reluctantly. “As I was saying, the guy who joins Mario and Mallow is actually a spirit from the Star Road. I have no idea what his real name is—” you really, _really_ want to hear him say it, “—but he goes by ‘Geno,’ after the doll he’s possessing.”

Shyster stops and takes the moment to rub his forehead. “...ugh. That’s a lot to unpack.”

You just smile unabashedly. “He’s actually the coolest of the heroes, in my opinion. I mean, he shoots lasers and stuff like that; like, his limbs are guns and cannons! And—”

“Hold up.” You do as he says, listening as he mutters “I feel like that’s all I’ve been saying today” under his breath. Looking up at you, he formally asks, “So this guy is a spirit, _specifically_ from the Star Road. What—does he want to stop Smithy, too?”

“As far as I know; yup. He’s basically their envoy who’s also tasked with retrieving all the Star Pieces.”

Shyster sighs. “And he…possesses a doll? Like a ghost or something? Why?”

“...you got a problem with ghosts?”

“_That’s_ what you take away?” The Shy Guy shrugs once before resuming walking alongside you. “No, but all the ghosts I’ve met are mischievous buggers. Almost assholes, but not quite. Besides, I still don’t get why this ‘Geno’ has to possess a toy.”

You can’t help the unattractive snort; everytime the Shy Guy cusses it’s _hilarious_. “Fair enough. Geno possesses a doll because as a spirit, he doesn’t actually have a body. And since his mission involves a hefty dose of violence…” You trail off, hoping your interference doesn’t result in him picking another doll. “I mean, he chooses the one that can shoot missiles, so.”

Shyster sniffs. “Then he must get along pretty well with the plumber.”

The two of you continue walking until it’s unanimously decided it’d be best to set up camp for the night. You doubt Mario and Mallow will save Rose Town with the last dregs of daylight, the sun having already disappeared over the horizon. You resist the urge to ask whether or not Shyster actually believes you, but you don’t want to seem _that_ clingy so you still your tongue.

After Shyster pitched the tent, you plan your movements for tomorrow over another tiny campfire. He hands you a small loaf of bread, a day old but still spongy, along with a hunk of cheese. You chew your food thoughtfully, exchanging more information about who Bowyer is and how he’ll be stopped.

It’s brief, but you tell him everything you know, from how Geno leaves on his own to confront the monster while Mario and Mallow attempt to follow him through the Forest Maze. You also tell him about the green Star Piece and how they’ll retrieve it, but unknowingly inform a leftover arrow of their importance. This eventually ignites a race for both Mario and Smithy to finding the leftover Star Pieces; Mario to save Star Road and Smithy to presumably prevent anyone from wishing him and his army away.

“Don’t you think we should at least try and stop that arrow?” Shyster asks.

You pause, sipping your water. “I mean, it’d be useful, certainly, but...I dunno. Like I said, I only know major events, not so much how to get through each d—place.” Ohhh man, don’t call them ‘dungeons;’ that’s video-game lingo!

If Shyster notices the mild slip-up, he says nothing. “I’m a pretty alright tracker, so if worse comes to worse we should be able to catch up with Mr. Mustache.”

You try not to visibly wane at the thought. Why’d he have to be so persistent? You’re trying to not get involved with this stuff, and that means staying away from the main group! “Uhhh, still...the forest is still full of dangers, y’know?” Ha ha, references.

The campfire flickers, casting shadows across the Shy Guy’s half-lidded eyes. “Any reason why you’re so against getting involved?”

_Damn_. Forgot he’s a perceptive little dude.

You feel yourself pale a few shades, hoping the warm light of fire doesn’t make your reluctance more obvious than it already is. “I, uhhh—I’m not, y’know, the most able-bodied…” You even kick up your bad knee, which seems to be perpetually swollen due to all the hiking you’ve been doing.

“Look,” Shyster begins, tone no-nonsense, “this isn’t about whether or not I believe you. As it is, tomorrow would be the perfect opportunity to prove me wrong, but there’s something else you’re hiding. If it’ll result in us getting more than we bargained for…” No more words were necessary; his narrowed eye holes spoke volumes.

You look down at your lap, visage reflecting from the water in your cup. It flickers with the flames, shuddering alongside your trembling grasp. What else do you have to lose at this point…?

Biting your lip, you decide to take the plunge. “You’re right. I don’t want to involve myself because I—I guess you could say I’m afraid. Afraid that if I do, then I’ll change things—”

Shyster’s eyes lessen their overt hostility. “Isn’t that the point?”

You shake your head. “I only know of one way things’ll go. If I change anything, anything at all...my foreknowledge would be moot.” _I don’t want to be useless_ goes unsaid.

For a few moments, Shyster says nothing and your anxiety flourishes.

Though his tone is placate, it still makes you reel back as if slapped. “So you’re okay with letting Smithy run loose, even if others get hurt in the process?”

“I—no!” A little water dribbles into your lap from your sudden lurch. “I just...I don’t want to make things _worse_.”

“I know you’re probably sick of me asking questions,” Shyster says, and despite your tiny protest - because any company was welcome at this point - he goes on like he doesn’t hear you. “But I have one more: do you really think that low of me?”

Your breath catches. “What…?”

“Despite being overall crass and knowing how to steal and be a thief in general, I’m true to my word.” Shyster levels and even look at you. “I gave my word to the old man; that I’d protect you regardless of the circumstances. So, lemme ask again: can you not trust me to carry out my side of the deal?”

“No! Of course not!” you immediately reply. “You’ve basically done everything so far, so why wouldn’t I trust you? You—if anyone here’s to fault then it’s me, because I’m gimpy and useless—!”

Shyster wastes no time in interrupting you. “I wouldn’t say that. Remember our deal? I do the heavy-lifting, you tell me what’s what. We’ve both been upholding our sides, so there’s no problem. So do you trust me?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

“Then tomorrow it is.”

You blink stupidly, but Shyster explains himself. “Time to finally put your words to the test, seer. We’ll head out for the Forest Maze whenever we’re able to and catch up with Mario and his gang. If what you said is true, then we stop that arrow and reap the repercussions later because I’ll still hold up my end of the bargain. Understand?”

When he states it like _that_...he sounds so sure of himself and his capabilities. You shouldn’t bring him down any more than you probably already have. So you slap on a tired smile and nod along, hoping you’re not making a huge mistake.

With that, the air is mostly cleared. After cleaning up, the two of you crawl into the tent and curl up to get some much needed rest.

*** * * * * * ***

“—up!” Poke. Poke. Nudge. _Slap_. “Get up already!”

Something slimy on your pillow; did you drool again? Blearily, you open your eyes and meet the faded blue fabric of the pillow you bought in Rose Town a few days ago. Leaning back to get a better view—ayup. Totally drooled again.

“_Stars_, would you just get up?! It’s not that hard!” Who…?

A white mask shoves itself into your vision, black eyes narrowed dangerously. Right. Shyster is a morning person after all...man, when you finally thought you could sleep in all you want because you don’t have any more chores to run…

Hands clutch the collar of your shirt, and you feebly allow your head to bob with the Shy Guy’s movement. “Hurry up and _wake up_! Get outside; you need to see this!”

After a few more moments of fumbling and bumbling, you manage to adapt to wakefulness and crawl out the tent. Shyster’s already standing vigil outside on the hill, colors muddied from the dark early morning sky. Even the stars above are still visible through the oncoming blue horizon.

Rubbing your eyes, you obey Shyster’s command to “look!” Really, his guidance isn’t necessary considering the thin pillar of light being pretty noticeable.

You find yourself immediately snapping into reality. The ray cuts through the dim sky like a straight line connecting the land to the heavens above. It remains that way for a few seconds longer before shuttering, flickering in and out of existence until it vanishes entirely.

“It’s coming from the direction of Rose Town,” Shyster says, turning around. “...why are you smiling?”

You shrug yourself back into the warmth of the tent, already packing up your things. “Looks like Geno’s finally here.”

It only takes several more minutes to finish packing up camp in its entirely, and then you and Shyster begin trekking toward Rose Town. The sun is barely peeking over the horizon but the chill of nighttime remains. Luckily it does nothing since the adrenaline pumping through you seems to be keeping you warm enough.

As soon as you step foot into Rose Town, you know it’s time for the show to start. For starters, it’s pretty difficult to miss the various Toads standing as unmoving as statues. A keening whistle pierces the air - definitely not from Shyster’s slingshot - and an arrow lands on one of the homes, displacing a tile to crumble off the roof. To get around the video game logic of the arrow just disappearing, it actually broke apart into tiny pieces at contact.

Don’t those arrow fellas have faces and can talk? You visibly wince; what a lackluster existence.

“Stop gawking and get some cover!” Shyster berates besides you.

The two of you bolt through town, huddling under any overhangs you can reach when more whistles fracture the quiet morning air. While a bit ominous, there’s an elderly Toad who’s near the same awning. Given how his beady eyes track you but he makes no movement, you suspect he’s petrified, too.

You watch Shyster peek around town - again, actually a lot bigger than it is in-game - clearly looking for something. “Now, which way to the Forest Maze?”

“Oh, you two looking for the lost treasure?”

Both of you snap your heads to the Toad. Despite Shyster asking further about the treasure, you hurriedly input, “Yes! Do you know which way to get into the forest?”

“Hmm…” The Toad looks like he wants to gesture, but settles for narrowing his eyes. “Well, do you folks know where the Inn is?” You nod once and he continues, “The entrance to the Forest Maze is just yonder over the northern exit of town, where the Inn is.”

“Thank you very much, sir!” you chirp before nudging Shyster along before he guides you northward. The Toad wishes you well, even though he eyes the Shy Guy at your side almost suspiciously. Getting away from his awning is a bit of a relief; you don’t do too well with confrontations like that.

The two of you manage to scurry through town, successfully dodging all the arrows which rain down around you.

“There!” You hastily point to the large building with the tell-tale spinning star sign outside it. Shyster wastes no time in following you to its balcony, taking a quick break. Idly, you peek inside the lobby. Ah; the tiny Toad with the magenta stripes _has_ to be Gaz. A cursory check shows no signs of Mario or Mallow; they’re probably long gone.

True to the old Toad’s word, the town’s northern exit is just on the other side of the building. You offer Shyster a wordless glance and he returns it before you both rush for the wooden gates and the trees just beyond them.

The Forest Maze is...just like its namesake. It’s a forest, and also a maze. And you _hate it_. The fact there’s no background music is the cherry atop the horrible cake.

“Ugh...my _knee_.”

“Stop complaining! It hasn’t even been that long!” Shyster wastes zero time in snapping his slingshot back, a sharp whistle bristling through the air as the rock hits its target. The unfortunate mushroom shrivels and dissipates, leaving behind...a perfectly benign mushroom.

The Shy Guy picks it up, dusts it off and shoves it into his bag. Gross...you hope he’s the one who uses it. Mushrooms are nasty, regardless if they have magical healing properties ala every single _Mario RPG_ game.

Overall, your hike through the woods isn’t nearly as bad as you’d predicted. Then again, with giant Donkey Kong-like gorillas out and about, your fears would’ve been well founded. Turns out after days of practicing on smaller fry, Shyster seems to have ‘leveled up’ a few times to the point where he can take those on without problem. Luckily, one even dropped what you think is an Able Juice, if memory serves.

You watch as Shyster scours the dirt floor for more rocks to pelt at enemies. You shift the bags on your back; since he’s doing all the fighting, you offered to carry all the supplies.

Also turns out Shyster wasn’t lying when he said he was a decent tracker. Despite never seeing a hint of Mario or Mallow wandering through the woods, every so often you do catch a glimpse of bright blue. Although you’ve shoved the both of you down behind foliage whenever that happens, you’re sure it’s Geno.

This pattern seems to go on for what feels like an hour or so: Shyster snipes down any potential threat, explores your surroundings, and loots any chests or pipes you come across.

You don’t find that pipe leading down to that cave filled with chests - again, the forest is a _lot_ bigger than it is in the game - but you did find the one with the single hidden chest. Turns out the mystery item is a safety badge! You offered it to Shyster and he tacked it on to his belt with a gruff “thanks.”

A few more of those glove-wearing rats - Rat Funks, maybe? - come out of a hidden alcove. They notice your intrusion and immediately gun for you. A few whistles followed by sharp impacts and hissed “ouches” later, all the monsters leave, shooting glares at Shyster as they do.

The Shy Guy lowers his slingshot once the gentle pitter patter of the Rat Funks can’t be heard. Looking over at you, he observes, “So besides potentially knowing what major events happen, you also seem to know where some hidden chests are. Is the ‘hidden treasure’ that old man was talking about real?”

You step toward the massive spring nestled in the corner. “Uhhh...I guess? There’s another cave like this one with a bunch of chests in it, but I think Mario and Mallow already found it.”

Shyster actually sounds surprised when he asks, “Really? How would you know?”

“I don’t.” You shrug, climbing onto the spring and waiting for the Shy Guy to do the same. “But shouldn’t we leave most of the stuff for them anyways since they’ll need it more than us? On a completely unrelated note, this bag is pretty heavy.”

“...fine. Let’s catch up with everyone else, then. We don’t wanna miss the party.”

With a synchronized hop, the spring thrusts you back through the warp pipe and you crawl back onto the forest floor. Shyster is a lot more elegant, jumping out of the pipe and back to the ground in one fluid motion. Showoff.

As soon as he hits the ground Shyster immediately searches for...whatever he searches for when tracking. Footprints are something even someone as oblivious as you can notice, so you doubt it’s that. But he apparently finds what he’s looking for, motioning you over to another clearing or rather, ‘room’ in the forest.

For a few minutes, you silently creep through the forest, the blue of Geno’s cape in your peripherals most of the time.

Just as you’re beginning to worry that something went wrong, you nearly trip over yourself when you yank Shyster behind another tree. You’re pretty sure this is the final stretch, so it’s a relief to see Mario and Mallow strolling through the woods, probably trying to catch up with Geno too.

The pair pauses, and Mallow shifts the plain leather bag he’s carrying. Huh. Well, you suppose they need a means to carry supplies, too.

The prince looks up at the plumber. “Oof! Boy, I’m beat! Still, didja manage to see where he went, Mario?”

Mario says nothing, scratching the side of his cheek in contemplation. After a moment where he looks around, he tips his hat at Mallow. You can’t make out his expression from this angle, but Mallow seems to be assured. The prince just grins, cheerfully saluting, “Lead the way!” Mario does so and walks toward another clearing, the young mage hot on his heels.

As soon as the pair leave, you and Shyster seem to exhale the same breath you’d been holding. You exchange a look; yours a humored smile and his a deadpan expression. Then you silently decide to follow the pair.

It’s only when, after dipping behind multiple trees and taking small breaks, do you stumble upon a familiar scene. You’d recognize the barren dirt path which leads directly to Bowyer. Unfortunately, it’s not a funny, cheesy cutscene in a video game.

“_Hide_!” you hurriedly hiss to Shyster. He doesn’t immediately respond so you grab onto his hood and shove him. A rain of arrows impact the dirt where you were just standing, sinking in by a few inches before falling apart.

“Thanks,” he begrudges, shrugging off some clumps of dirt.

The two of you just wait in the relative safety of the treeline, peeking out to watch Mario and Mallow. Just as it was in the game, the two are hurrying down the path, scrambling to not get hit by the flurry of arrows flying down at them. Sure enough, Mallow’s trying his hardest to keep up with the portly plumber, arms flailing. When you can barely see them, the prince abrupt trips and proceeds to eat shit.

You and Shyster share a quiet wince. “Poor little guy,” you say.

“He’s basically a sitting duck,” the Shy Guy replies. “You sure he’s not gonna die?”

“No one’s supposed to die. Besides, haven’t you heard? The good guys always win.”

“Right. Of course.”

When you can no longer see Mario and Mallow, Shyster turns to you. You figure he’s going to ask about what to do and so on and so forth, so you jump into an explanation of just that. From what you recall, the path ends with another clearing where Geno will be facing down Bowyer. Mario and Mallow will intervene, keen on kicking Bowyer’s ass and then they do so. Then Geno will explain everything about being an envoy sent from Star Road and then joins forces with Mario and Mallow, yadda yadda yadda.

“...so what about that green Star Piece?” Shyster asks.

You bite your lip, trying to remember exactly when Bowyer acquires it. You know - and actually saw - it land somewhere in the Forest Maze, but Bowyer only obtains it right before his fight with Mario, right? There was a cutscene where one of his arrow flunkies brought it to him; you’re pretty sure about that.

You watch as the arrows raining down slow in frequency until they’re gone altogether. “I’m not too sure, but one of Bowyer’s arrows finds it and gives it to him. If I’m remembering it right, it’s right before the fight.”

“‘Fight?’” You just point down the barren path where Mario and Mallow disappeared. “Oh. Gotcha. And that arrow that we’re supposed to stop from telling Smithy about all this Star Road stuff?”

“...do you think you could find another way around?” Shyster tilts his head questioningly, and you try again. “To the clearing at the end of this path. Pretty sure there’s only two ways to get to it; one via this way and another unseen way from the back. Think you could find the back way? Probably be best to not directly confront either Mario or Bowyer.”

“I can try, but no promises.”

Although it was unspoken, you and Shyster hurry through various clearings in an effort to reach Bowyer before Mario and buddies finished him off. Considering a few stray arrows were still falling, you were ahead of schedule.

You manage to encounter a few more foes, mainly a couple of those weird balloon-carding octopus things. You have zero idea what they’re called, and frankly you don’t really care since one spat a rock at your head. Shyster had been quick to off that one after the fact, but you were too busy ruminating on Octoroks compared to those guys. Still, long-range fighters are a pain since you just stand there like a stationary target.

Shyster still stops to pick up more ammo for his slingshot every now and then, but doesn’t look too long. You hear him mutter about “strange tracks” being left. You ask him about it but he just shrugs you off, mentioning he saw the same tracks around Bandit’s Way and even Rose Way.

It’s only when the continual rain of arrows slows and then stops do you pick up your pace.

Thankfully, the path you’re hurrying down is long and corridor-like, similar to the other one Mario and Mallow followed. Your knee is about ready to give in but you and Shyster scamper down the dirt until a very familiar clearing enters your vision.

Like in the game, there’s a huge stump settled in the midst of other, smaller ones. You immediately look up onto the elevated platform to see Mario and Mallow conversing with another who you’ve only seen on a screen.

Geno is pretty much like you expected, but bigger. He’s a wooden doll wearing nothing but boots and his trademark cap and cape, star-themed of course. Jeez, it’s almost like Geno is a self-insert from Star Road or something.

Although you can make out the trio you can’t hear their voices clearly enough to understand what they’re saying. Considering Bowyer is nowhere in sight, you figure Geno’s giving them a rundown on what the Star Road and subsequent Star Pieces are and his sudden possession of Gaz’s toy. Considering the brilliant green star hovering between them, you’re willing to bet the conversation’s almost over. Wait a sec; if you can’t hear them then how can that arrow—?

_Shit_, the_ arrow_!

Belatedly, you register the sharp _crack_ of Shyster’s slingshot going off. From your peripheral, you watch the trio abruptly turn toward you but you don’t pay them any attention, instead looking for—

“_Yeowch_!”

A solid-sounding _thunk_ reverberates through the clearing just as the stone impacts the lone arrow, huddled behind one of the smaller stumps. It’s closer than you expected, and it’s face isn’t grinning maniacally like you thought it’d be; instead it’s gritting its teeth.

It probably throws a curse at you, but Shyster cuts it off. Without looking at you, he simply states, “Look alive!”

It takes a bit to register the hidden command, but you realize you’re the bigger body and therefore more adept at blocking the arrow’s escape. With how tedious the back way is, you have little doubt if the thing gets past then the plot will continue as it’s meant to. A small, traitorous part of your mind wants to just let it. But Shyster’s put his faith in you and you don’t want to betray that trust.

After the Shy Guy lets loose another stone, you immediately gun toward the arrow. The rock hits it dead-on yet again - dang, Shyster’s aim is not to be trifled with! - and it hisses in pain, unaware of your rapid approach. The closer you get, the more you notice it’s about a meter tall and not very thick; if you tried hard enough, you could probably just snap it with your bare hands.

When it finally notices your approach you’re already bearing down on it. Unfortunately, just as you’re about ready to pick the thing up and destroy it yourself, you forget one thing: it’s a knife attached to a stick. And sentient.

The damned thing doesn’t hesitate to jump at you and slice into your exposed thigh, giggling all the while.

You try to ignore the stinging sensation and round back on the thing, but you can’t; your legs won’t move, much less any other of your appendages. How the _hell_ did you forget these pests paralyzed Rose Town’s residents?

Suddenly, a strange weightlessness settles on you and—oh. Your knee finally managed to buckle.

You tumble onto the dirt rather ungracefully, the wind knocked out of you. Coughing a bit, you look up and see Shyster beginning to approach you, but you stop him. “No! The arrow; get the arrow!”

He barely hesitates before removing another stone and aiming it, eyes narrowed. Despite a few whistles and muted thunks coming from the forest corridor, Shyster’s growing agitation and a final “_damnit_!” makes it apparent the thing escaped.

Once it’s established he can’t do anything about it, Shyster drags himself to your side. “What it’d do to you?”

You roll your eyes. “It paralyzed me, obviously. I fell because my knee is in pretty bad shape.” You try to shift in a more comfortable position, but find you can’t. “Still can’t move, by the way.”

Wordlessly, Shyster rummages through the bags that fell alongside you before procuring a familiar blue drinking cup. He doesn’t hesitate to pop the lid open and pour the contents near your lips. Turns out drinking while lying down tends to result in choking.

As you cough and gasp, Shyster caps the rest of the stuff and replaces it. “Able Juice; should clear up the paralysis in no time.” True to his word, your mobility returns a few seconds later.

Multiple footfalls interrupt your “thanks” and both you and Shyster turn at the intrusion.

You feel yourself go white as a sheet, trying and failing to ignore how the trio is staring at you. Shyster doesn’t remove his eyes from them but wordlessly offers to help you back up.

As you stumble to your feet, you hear Mallow’s cheerful voice. “Oh, hey! You’re the one who told us Mack would be weak to lightning, and he was! Made our job a lot easier. Thanks for that, by the way!”

“Uh-huh.” Looking down at the Nimbus boy - he’s too cute! - you slap on a forced smile that probably makes you look constipated. “N-no problem…”

From the corner of your eye, you see Shyster shooting a minor look of distaste at the stoic plumber, but says nothing. Perhaps more disconcerting is how the resident spirit is looking you over, not even bothering to hide his apparent interest. You really, really don’t like that. Like, at all.

“Say,” Mallow interrupt your rampant thoughts, “why are you here anyways? Oh! Are you on another errand for Mr. Mycil? He told me you delivered Grandpa the cricket pie in my place; sorry about that, but thanks for that, too!”

“Uhhh…” Looks like you’re ability to hold standard conversations has abruptly vanished. It’s a lot to unpack, especially with your audience. “Nnnooo…? I’m actually just...traveling with Shyster here. We were camping pretty close by.”

Biting your lip, you also ask, “How is he? Mr. Mycil, I mean. I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye…” You kinda wanted to ask about Mr. Shroomby, but you doubt they encountered him.

Mallow seems uncaring of the general tension hanging in the air when he happily replies, “Mr. Mycil seems pretty good last time I saw him. I think he kinda misses you, too, since he said I remind him of you.”

“Oh…” Great, now you feel bad. “Thanks for letting me know.”

The prince just smiles in return.

Cue another brief awkward silence. From your peripheral, you catch Shyster looking up and down at Geno. It’d be kinda funny if, y’know, you weren’t currently about to faint from stress. Like, _the_ Geno is standing a few feet away.

“It was pretty fortunate you were nearby,” the spirit intones, glancing down at Shyster before returning his gaze to you, “even if the arrow got away.” You really don’t like how he then crosses his arms self-assuredly, the shadow of a smirk appearing. “I’m guessing you already know about Smithy and his gang?”

You feel yourself grow paler, if you even could at this point. You may be pretty oblivious, but that was _definitely_ not a question, no matter how it was phrased.

“Yup,” Shyster confirms, tone dry. “Kinda hard to miss all the invasions and sentient weapons prancing about.”

Geno levels a distinctly unimpressed glance down at the Shy Guy, who returns it in equal measure. Huh, apparently Shyster isn’t too enthralled with the resident spirit.

“Anyways,” Geno continues after a beat, “you mentioned you’re traveling?” Oh no, no no no. You definitely do _not_ like where this is going. _Please_, you can’t take any more of these self-insert shenanigans.

Shyster doesn’t say anything ever after you maybe shoot him a pleading look. Tongue feeling far too heavy and throat suddenly dry, you manage to choke out, “Y-yeah. We’re—uh, we’re on our way to Seaside Town.” Well, not a complete lie, since it is somewhere you want to go. “I love the ocean so I wanna go to the beach and see it myself…”

Geno has the audacity to look stricken, red eyes wide and mouth curled in confusion. He collects himself a moment later, growing lax enough to let his arms rest by his sides once more.

Gaining a more insightful look, the spirit glances down at Shyster before mentioning, “I’m sure you don’t take too kindly to Smithy’s influence—”

Shyster lets out a crude snort. “Obviously.”

Cue another of Geno’s withered looks. He sighs, then states, “What if I told you there was a way to get rid of him?”

Shyster continues to look unimpressed, arms crossed and eyes lidded. “I suppose you’re going to tell me all about the Star Road and Star Pieces now, Mr. Spirit?”

The breath is chased from your lungs and you feel yourself pale further, if possible. You’re unable to mask the distress clearly broadcasted on your face, not helped by the panicked glance you shoot down at the Shy Guy, who remains relatively indifferent.

Birefly, you look back at the trio of heroes standing before you and—Geno’s not looking at Shyster. His red eyes glint in what you can only call satisfaction, that previously hidden smirk now obviously a shit-eating grin. _Gotcha_.

You’re always a bit chilly, but the icy dread sloughing through you is nearly painful.

He knows. Damn it all, _he knows_.

“...yes, that’s about right,” Geno relents, but he doesn’t look away from you. “Then again, I don’t recall ever mentioning my status to you.”

From the corner of your vision, you see Shyster glance up first at Geno before shifting his attention to you. Apparently unknowing or even uncaring of how rigid you are, he playfully elbows your leg. “Looks like you were right after all, seer.”

The damage is done. As soon as the title leaves Shyster's mask, you can only watch as Mario and Mallow’s eyes widen in surprise while Geno’s narrow in understanding and - dare you say - _glee_. As much as you want to like Geno ‘cause he’s, y’know, _Geno_, he’s proving himself to be a pain in your butt right about now.

“‘Seer?’” Mallow whispers up at Mario, who simply thumbs his chin. The prince soon looks up at you in confusion before his beady eyes widen. “Is that how you knew about Mack being weak to lightning? That’s so cool!”

You’re not entirely sure what your face is doing, but you’re sure it’s nothing pretty.

Unfortunately, the little puffball continues on his starry-eyed speech. “If you’re a real seer, then you already knew about Bowyer too, right? And you wanted to stop him—” He lets out a sharp gasp before blurting out, “That’s why you were here, weren’t you?! Just like Geno—”

As Mario levels a thoughtful expression at you and Mallow keeps gushing, you idly wonder how a sentient cloud who believes himself to be a tadpole can be so oblivious and observant all at once. You already have one insightful shortstack in your life; you don’t need another.

Geno crosses his arms again, clearly enjoying your suffering. When a lull presents itself, the spirit raises a single finger as if pointing out the obvious if undesired conclusion. Nodding once, he states, “Having a companion like you would be invaluable to my mission. If we’re all fighting a common enemy and you’re traveling like us, it’d certainly be easier to join forces—”

A wheezing laugh bordering on hysteria leaves your clenched teeth. Ignoring how much your voice, pitched as it is, wavers sporadically, you manage to stutter, “W-well would you look at the time, _ha ha_, we have places to be, uh, things to see; right, Shyster?”

The Shy Guy in question offers you a bemused expression. Before he can retort anything, he lets out an angry squawk as you pry him off the ground. He’s lighter than he looks, so carding him off alongside your shared supplies isn’t nearly as arduous as you thought it’d be.

Limping a few steps back, you ignore the strange expressions crossing both Mallow and Mario’s faces. Grinning - or at the very least trying to - at them, you shakily say, “It’s—it’s been real fun meeting you all, b-but we gotta get going…”

The last thing you see before you turn around is Geno’s confident face give way to disbelief, then abrupt confusion.

With little decorum, you start booking it as fast as your bad knee will allow, all the while ignoring the spirit’s sharp cry of “H-hey, wait a minute!”

You don’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...oof. Unexpected power outage hit so I wasn't able to publish this yesterday. 
> 
> Mario's a silent protagonist because I say so - _creative liberty, baaaby_! - and Geno...well, you'll see more of him.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the update!


	4. Ebb and Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader nearly gets indoctrinated into a couple of gangs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Edit**: changed some of the general formatting up until (and moving on from) this point. Hopefully the page-breaks are easier on the eyes!

Surprisingly and, perhaps, welcoming enough, Shyster didn’t make much of a fuss, cradled in your arms as he is. He stopped grumbling after the first minute or so, and then decided to just guide you through the twisting paths of the Forest Maze. It takes a bit, but not nearly as long as when you entered since you’re still hurrying to get away from...from the fate most self-inserts fall into, you guess.

You really, _really_ don’t want to know how much Geno knows. You figure it’s better left in the dark.

Thankfully, there are no pounding footsteps behind you nor did the trio even attempt to follow you. Maybe Geno is too busy telling Mario and Mallow about you to actually try and catch up and reason with you to just stay and help him. Like he apparently expected you to do.

“...y’know, you can put me down now.”

You blink. “Oh. Right.” And you lean down to deposit Shyster back onto solid ground.

The Shy Guy mutters under his breath, but the warbling words are clearly not anything you can understand so you settle for taking in your surroundings. Suffice to say, the sun is beginning to set overhead, something you couldn’t see underneath the forest’s thick canopy. Also, Rose Town is a lot more lively with the Toads free to walk around, the threat of Bowyer gone.

Huh. You wonder why the paralysis didn’t magically wear off for you. Maybe since you were ‘shot’ after Bowyer had presumably perished? Either way, your knee is trembling and the pain is tangible bordering on extreme. Curse adrenaline and its short lifespan.

“Hey.” You look down at Shyster, who glances at your knee before looking up at you. He’s holding a roll of medical bandages out. “Should probably tend to that cut. Then let’s head out for camp; it won’t take long.”

And it thankfully doesn’t. About fifteen minutes later your cut is clean and wrapped, and you’re watching the Shy Guy set up the green tent you’ve come to associate with safety and relaxation. The spot is still the same hill you originally met him, the vista overlooking the ominous silhouette of Exor and Bowser’s Keep. The familiarity is more comforting than you’d expect.

Once the tent is pitched and Shyster made another of his small campfires, he hands you the last remains of your food storage: old bread, jerky, and surprisingly some nuts. A small cup of water finishes the meal, and you eat in relative silence.

After swallowing a bite of jerky, Shyster looks over at you. “How’s your knee?”

You balk a little, pausing your chewing. You don’t look at him, choosing to instead glare down at the swollen joint. “It’s...it’ll be fine in a day or so,” you mutter. A hot flush of shame flashes through you when you recall your paralysis and subsequent fall. “Sorry,” you tack on a second later.

Shyster actually looks mildly surprised if not confused, judging by how one of his eye holes is lidded. “What? What’re you sorry for now?”

“For letting the arrow get away. Or maybe for being a gimp in the first place. I dunno.”

Shyster’s expression turns cross for a split-second before he sighs wearily. “...it’s not your fault. Look, we both did what we could. Besides, I saw what happened after you got paralyzed; it looked like your knee bent _inward_. It was kinda gross-looking, if I’m being honest.”

This manages to elicit a small laugh from you. “Yeah, it does that sometimes. It’s pretty weak; has been for a while now. Injured it a while ago and it never healed right, I guess.”

“Well, now _I_ should be the one apologizing. So, sorry. I also should’ve given you my Safety Badge, so sorry again. Anyways, tell me when you’re at your limit, alright? We’re in this _together_.”

You absolutely cannot stop the wavering smile that crosses your lips. Trying to hide it, you simply nod before taking a wobbly sip of your water. Satisfied, you both proceed to finish your dinner, admiring the dusky colors of the sky and the pleasant warmth of the flickering fire.

“You know, I wasn’t lying earlier when I said you were right.”

This admission has you blinking stupidly over at Shyster, who’s busy looking into his own water cup. After another moment he continues, “About everything, I mean. I won’t deny I sorta thought you were a loon the first time you began spouting about the Mushroom Kingdom being invaded, considering the plumber lives—”

“Mario wasn’t there at the time.”

“—right. Anyways, I didn’t believe you; not really, at least. I had my suspicions, sure, but then the little things added up until, well. Geno pretty much confirmed everything, alongside the puffball. And that arrow. But…”

There it is; the dreaded ‘but.’ You simply wait with bated breath, wondering what Shyster’s going to bring up now. He’s dangerously perceptive of the things you try your damndest to hide for fear of...what? Him leaving you? Especially after he said ‘we’re in this together’? You don’t want to be alone. Not again.

Shyster shakes his head. “There’s still some things I don’t understand. Rather, some things I’m led to believe you’re hiding.” He looks up at you, mask indecipherable. “Am I right?”

You don’t say anything; you _can’t_. So you settle for looking torn which is as much a sign of guilt as anything else.

Shyster snorts softly. “Figures. It seemed kinda apparent the moment you freaked out around the doll when I called you ‘seer.’”

“...you did that on_ purpose_?”

“You probably won’t believe me, but I’m sorry I made you feel like that,” Shyster says, fidgeting briefly. “It’s just...the moment I took one good look at him it pretty much confirmed my belief in your abilities. Geno isn’t something you can come up with on some whim.”

You nearly bust out with laughter but an amused snort comes out instead. You hastily explain, “Honestly, that’s _exactly_ what I thought when I wanted you to believe me.”

“Clearly, it worked.” The Shy Guy gazes off into the distance before continuing. “Anyways, I guess I wanna say that I was testing the waters, so to speak. You clearly knew everything important about the guy, but then it seemed like he also knew more about you than you originally let on. Calling you a seer seemed to prove it.”

Silence, only interrupted by the gentle crackling fire between you.

“Do...do you wanna know?” Shyster tilts his head back to you inquisitively. You try again, voice no louder than a whisper. “What I’m hiding, I mean.”

The Shy Guy pauses before saying, “Honestly, there’s a part of me that wants to demand the answer if it’ll put us in any more danger. But I already overstepped your boundaries and frankly, I don’t want to further. Don’t feel obligated; knowing every single thing about you wasn’t a part of the deal.”

The resulting rush of relief is nearly enough to make you delirious with joy, but you settle for a wobbly smile. “...thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Shyster replies. “To be honest, it seems like you were pretty scared of the guy once he made it clear he knew about...well, you. So I’m not too worried, all things considered.”

That shuts you up real fast. Ruminating on the words makes them ring true; you have absolutely zero idea how much Geno knows about you and your background. If he recognizes you, then that means he also knows you’re not from the Mushroom Kingdom, much less the world of _Mario_ at large. And he didn’t seem fazed at all by your foreknowledge, so that would mean he knows that _you_ know everything, or...he somehow knows this all just fiction in your world. God, what even would that be like, knowing you’re nothing more than a fictional character? Inception, or what?

“...’course, I did enjoy the looks on all their faces when you made your getaway. _Priceless_.”

You shoot a quick glare over the rim of your water cup, but Shyster pointedly ignores you. Instead, he goes on to blithely state, “Also you’re a terrible liar; you had the chance to just say you overheard everything. Then again, watching everyone fumble over themselves…_pfft_.”

The atmosphere is shortly doused with stunted chuckles and heated grumblings, courtesy of Shyster and you, respectfully. The night passes quickly in the midst of your reassuring happiness and Shyster’s playful banter, and soon enough you find yourself curling up on your unofficial side of the tent, drifting off to sleep.

*** * * * * * ***

The next few days see you taking it relatively easy, walking mild distances around Rose Way to collect a few dozen more coins and buying some more supplies in Rose Town. Although you fail to run into Mario, Mallow and Geno, you _do_ manage to catch a glimpse of the king of koopas, apparently giving a rousing speech to lines of his minions. That had been pretty fun, considering how hard Shyster tried to pry you behind a bush because you didn’t see the commotion. Other than that, there hadn’t been any interesting happenings.

When your knee was about normal - “‘By tomorrow;’ _please_,” Shyster chastised two days after the incident - you packed up everything and set out westward. It was the generally agreed upon action after you explained what would happen next and if anything could be prevented. Read: of the three generals, only Yaridovich in Seaside Town was left. Unfortunately, you didn’t get the chance to explain _that_ far yet.

“Lemme get this straight,” Shyster says, shifting his bags, “the next Star Piece fell into the mines at Moleville, so that’s where Mr. Mustache and his entourage are heading, same as us. After that, they head to Booster Tower where both Bowser and the princess are, and...hold on. Was there another Star Piece there or something?”

You nearly stumble on some overgrown weeds poking out from the stoney path. Swallow a curse, you shake your head. “Not that I’m aware of. But the princess is there, so—wait.” You look down at your companion. “Did I ever tell you about the deal with Mario and why he set out in the first place?”

“You mean to tell me Mr. Hero himself _didn’t_ immediately set out to stop Smithy?”

That nets a small laugh from you. “Ah, no, not as far as I know. This all started as the standard ‘rescue the princess’ fare for him.” Shyster actually looks interested, so you continue explaining about how the princess was hanging out with Mario when Bowser kidnapped her and, in true Mario fashion, the plumber immediately left to save her. Cue a giant sword interrupting them and subsequently sending them to different parts of the world at impact.

“Huh,” Shyster intones dryly. “Sounds like fun.”

You laugh, loud and bright, and Shyster allows himself a chuckle. It’s a relatively easy trek between Rose Town and Moleville for multiple reasons, one of which being the distinct lack of any other monsters. Another is the fact the dirt paths soon melded into smoother, clay-like roads littered with the pale stone you associate with the mines, so it’s easier on your knee.

Although you’re currently on your way toward more self-insert shenanigans - nothing good can come of stalking the plot, you’re sure - you and Shyster are still swooning at the possibility of staying at the inn. Shyster mentioned it’s far enough from Rose Town such that he won’t immediately be ostracized for his species. “Besides,” he also explained, “trade seems more common between Rose Town and the Mushroom Kingdom, not so much Moleville.”

When you reach the apex of the path you’re on, you stop and take in the view. Instead of Exor filling the horizon, it’s the surprisingly fancy silhouette of Booster’s Tower.

Shyster stops besides you. “Is that where the resident princess is?”

“Should be, at least.” You spot a small scattering of humble-looking homes further down the hill. There’s also an imposing mountain of the same smooth stone you’re walking on, with railways winding up and down its sides. Pointing, you cheer, “Look! Moleville’s just ahead!”

“Ugh, thank the stars,” Shyster grumbles, but there’s no bite. “We both need showers—_hey_! You could’ve punted me off the hill!”

Ignoring him, you adjust the strap on your bag and start walking. If Shyster sees the crude little smirk adorning your face, he says nothing but grumbles under his breath in his own tongue.

All things considered, Moleville is a lot more pleasant than it looks in-game.

For starters, the weather is pleasantly warm, but not hot enough to be uncomfortable by any stretch of the imagination. With how you always seemed chilled to the bone, it’s a nice change of pace from the cold breezes littering Rose Way and up by the Mushroom Kingdom. And the town isn’t nearly as barren as you thought it’d be; on the contrary, it’s filled with bustling townsfolk and friendly chatter. Hell, a few moles who noticed you immediately greeted you and told you how to get to the inn.

With a weary thanks, you wave at them and soon enough both you and Shyster enter the largest building in town. After coughing up 20 coins - “10 coins per person fer a night,” the kindly matron said - you slunk through the hallway to key open your private room.

It’s pretty homey for how humble most of the tin-roofed, wooden buildings are in this place. It’s furnished similarly to good ol’ Mushroom Suite #3 back at Mr. Shroomby’s inn, and the familiarity makes your heart pang in a sort of homesickness. As with every hotel room, you do a compulsory check and yup, that second door leads to a small bathroom complete with a wash tub and shower head.

“_Thank the stars_,” Shyster murmurs reverently behind you, and you try not to startle.

You don’t argue when the Shy Guy makes it pretty clear he wants to shower first, instead settling on the single bed. While going over and organizing your supplies, you mentally go over the next series of events. The trio should be arriving or has already arrived in town—huh. Right; somehow you completely forgot about the Pipe Vault. Heh, you have to thank Shyster for finding another way besides the cavern.

There’s Dyna and...Mite? Mentally shrugging, you remember how the trio will go looking for the two young moles in the mines, find the orange Star Piece and take that minecart ride which was always something that looked infuriating in the game. And then _after that_, they run into those three Snifits, right? Beetles...Booster...and then Princess Toadstool. Oh, and Bowser.

Plucking out your leftover food storage, you sigh when only a meager few handfuls of nuts remain.

Stretching your wired muscles, you get up and knock on the bathroom door. Before Shyster can probably and rightfully complain, you hurriedly say, “I’m going out to buy some supplies; be back in a bit!”

You don’t hear anything but running water before a muffled, “Get some medical stuff too!” echoes from the bathroom.

With your yellow canvas bag thrown over your shoulder, you lock up your room and set out for the item shop. Along the way, you notice none of the local moles seem anxious about missing children. Figuring it’ll all go down tomorrow, you continue on your way until you spot the spinning mushroom signs of the shop. You pry open the door—

Three very familiar figures return your stare.

“Hey, it’s the seer! Hiya!” Mallow greets you cheerfully and you don’t have the heart to ignore him.

Wincing, you mutter, “Please don’t call me that.”

“Oops. Sorry.”

Shutting the door behind you, you shoot a half-hearted wave at the trio, steadily refusing to make eye-contact with any of them. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind if the floorboards opened up beneath you and directly shunted you to the center of the world. Boiling alive can’t really compare to the embarrassed flush plastered to your skin.

The three of them allow their stares to linger before turning around to shop. You really, really want to just run out of the store and lock yourself in your room, but you remember your lack of foodstuffs. Your stomach silently rumbles and you ruefully sigh, resigning yourself to this awkward experience.

While Mario and Mallow go over the shopkeeper’s goods, Geno turns around. He offers you a look bordering between confusion and disgruntlement.

Giddy with anxiety, you blurt out, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Cue deadpan stare. “Actually, I’m positive you already knew we were here.”

Keenly aware of the glances both the plumber and prince are shooting you guys, you shrug helplessly. “N-not really. It’s not like I know your every waking moment or anything; that’d make me a stalker and I can assure you I’m not.” Cool! Mouth, meet foot.

Digging yourself deeper, you carelessly tack on, “Besides, I probably—_definitely_ don’t want to get involved. S’why I ditched you earlier.” Wow! Why are you like this.

“Trust me,” Geno intones dryly, “that was made _painfully_ apparent.” Red eyes glance off to the side, watching Mario and Mallow finish haggling with the mole across the counter before returning to you. Crossing his arms, he adds in a lower tone, “Though having you help would make my mission easier, if not everything else. If I had all the Star Pieces, then banishing Smithy would be a joke. Then again, you already _know this_.”

Well, you feel about as small as all those times Shyster has read too far into your issues. It apparently shows, because you’ve been unintentionally curling in on yourself.

Straightening up, you shrug again. “Well...actually, I have no idea what Star Road has to do with all this.” Thankfully Geno has the dignity to seem surprised, so you readily admit, “All I know is that it grants wishes. Sooo…” You shrug yet again. “Like, what about free will?”

The spirit says nothing but pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long sigh. He then proceeds to clasp his hands together like he cannot believe you just said that to his face.

Just when he’s about to say something the mole behind the counter calls out, “Next!”

“Oooh, that’s me!” You shoot the spirit a smirk and saunter your way up to the counter. You can hear Geno grumble under his breath for a second before he apparently follows Mario and Mallow out the store, the door shutting behind them.

After some mild bartering, you manage to buy a fair share of supplies: some hard oat-crusted bread, cheese, and even a few rolls of cured meat sausages. In addition to a tiny bottle of alcohol and bandages, it all comes out to be pretty cheap. Stuffing the goods in your bag, you walk back outside and—well, well, well, all three are waiting outside.

You sigh. “I figured it’d be too easy.”

“Look,” Geno starts again, clearly beginning to grow frustrated, “you already know pretty much everything important and there would be four of us—”

“Five eventually - _not_ including me - but go on.”

“...what I’m trying to say is that retrieving the Star Pieces _and_ defeating Smithy would be a _lot_ easier if _someone_—” Cue the spirit jabbing a finger in your direction, “—joined our cause. Besides, you’re _already_ travelling; would it really be that much of a hassle to travel alongside us?”

You level an unimpressed glare at the doll. “Don’t point that weapon at me. And _yes_, it _would_ be a pretty big hassle for me.”

Geno crosses his arms again and begins tapping his foot. “How so?”

“Glad you asked! Multiple reasons, really,” you begin, allowing your sprite to fuel your next words. “First being _this_.” You lift up and point at your bad knee, which is slightly swollen. “Can’t go that fast, and as far as I know you’re trying to rush through things. And - here’s the big one—”

Ignoring the decidedly strange look the plumber is giving you, you splay your arms out in front of him. “Look! Here he is, Mr. Hero himself! Like, he’s _the_ Mario! No offense, Mallow.”

The prince shrugs nonchalantly. “None taken.”

You shoot an expectant look at the spirit. Unable to help yourself, you remark, “But you already know this.”

While the titular hero just looks slightly disturbed - and honestly, you _are_ being a bit of a weirdo around Mr. Video Game himself - Geno’s patience seems to be rapidly deteriorating. It gets to the point where he’s silently fuming, only giving a terse nod to his companions when Mallow tells him they’re going to book a room at the inn.

Once the other two are out of sight, Geno whirls on you—_ha ha_; unintentional pun. Although he’s clearly frustrated, he’s also holding himself back and you try not to openly cower because, again, he’s made of guns.

Rubbing his temples, he grits out, “What’s so hard to understand about this being mutually beneficial? You help me, and I can help you—”

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa_; hold on a sec,” you hold up your hands in a placanting manner. “I don’t—I _don’t_ need your help, and I _don’t_ want to get any more involved in this mess than I already am. Heroics are—they’re not for me.”

“The fact you tried to stop that arrow says otherwise.”

“...that was mostly Shyster’s fault,” you begrudge. _Besides, I just wanted to run away_ goes unsaid. Then an idea forms and suddenly it’s too hard to bite back a smile. “Heeey, how’s about a trade? I tell you something important and then you leave me alone. I don’t come along and ruin everything, and you get what you want! Perfect, right?”

A myriad of expressions crosses Geno’s wooden face, but he eventually adopts a disgruntled look. “I get the feeling I shouldn’t agree, but fine.”

“Okay!” You clap, giddy at the prospect he’s unknowingly handed to you. “So here’s something that’ll help in the long-run: the shiny stone.” The spirit looks unimpressed, but you go on, barely able to contain your excitement. “First you gotta buy some fireworks; a mole around here sells them. Then you have to trade the fireworks to another mole - a little girl, if I’m remembering right - and then she’ll give you the shiny stone! It’ll be _really_ useful when you get to Monstro Town.”

“...again, I’m getting the feeling I can’t trust you.”

Maybe the big, dumb, stupid grin you’re wearing has something to do with that, but you shrug. “Your loss, then.”

After a small pause the spirit heaves another sigh, like being around you is making him tired. Crossing his arms as seems to be his habit, he pointedly asks, “Anything about what’s currently happening, maybe?”

“Will you stop trying to bully me into joining your gang?”

“It’s not—ugh, _fine_,” he eventually relents, looking cross. “So what you do know?”

You glance up at the sky, which is beginning to darken with the oncoming night. If you look closely enough, some stars are even bright enough to be seen. Tapping your chin, you mentally recap all the important bits that’ll be happening soon enough and—right. He’d probably want to know about the Star Piece.

“Probably tomorrow,” you begin, “you’re gonna go looking for two moles in the mines, which is also where you’ll find the third Star Piece. _There_, are you...happy…?”

You quickly trail off when it becomes apparent that Geno.exe has stopped working. After a moment where he’s clearly rebooting, you notice how rigid he is and get the distinct feeling he’s pissed. Well, that’s not optimal.

“You…” he starts, but his voice peeters out. Unfortunately, you can hear his wooden fingers scraping against one another as he clenches both of his fists against his sides. A cursory check of his face shows red eyes dangerously narrowed and a grimace to boot. So, clearly he’s not happy with you. But why…?

“_You know where all the Star Pieces are_?!”

Ah. Right; _that’s_ why.

Looking anywhere but the furious spirit in front of you, you back away. “Uhhh…_bye_!”

You don’t even look back, but you do get a good glance only to nearly flinch at the sheer, undiluted look of frustrated confusion crossing his face. Honestly, coupled with how he throws his arms out in what you assume is indignation, how could you not immediately book it? He’s made of _guns_.

Over the heartbeat blaring like a siren between your ears, you hear the spirit yell, “Hey—_get back here_!”

You don’t even know if he’s following you, but you’re running as fast as your stupid knee will allow. You limp-sprint back to the inn and continue even after bursting through the front door. You don’t even stop at the befuddled looks Mario and Mallow are throwing at you from the counter, instead rushing down the hall back to your room.

It’s only after you lock the door behind you that you finally gasp for some much-needed breath. Dang it all to heck and back, you just probably royally pissed off the resident spirit. You’re _terrible_ at this self-insert stuff.

“...did I miss something?”

You just heave another sigh, turning around to see Shyster standing with a towel covering his head. The sight alone is nearly enough to break you out into hysterics, but you manage to hold it all in. Well, relatively speaking; you do blurt out, “I think Geno’s out for my blood,” and then you expand upon the topic by explaining everything that happened in your absence.

The Shy Guy’s got a great poker face, even without the mask. “...sounds about right for you.”

He then proceeds to ignore your indignant rebuttal, instead pointing at the unoccupied shower. “Your turn. And we can chat about everything at dinner. Relaxation time _now_.” He then goes on to mutter about how long it’s been since he’s had a hot meal, rubbing the towel over his hooded head. Odd.

Unable to dispute his order, you just shrug off your bag and grab a fresh set of clothes.

*** * * * * * ***

So you don’t know what you were expecting.

Mallow _did_ explicitly state he and Mario would get a room at the only inn in town. That is to say, your inn.

You push around the steamed veggies on your plate, clearly ignoring the heated look a certain doll is affixing you with. You make the mistake of glancing over at his table and a cheerful prince waves at you from across the lobby. Still dutifully refusing to even look at Geno, you hesitantly wave back. The resulting grin on Mallow’s face almost makes it worth the embarrassment of having several other patrons glance at you in confusion.

Shyster watches the exchange wordlessly, instead popping a bite of his hamburger steak. He doesn’t seem to share your nerves because he blatantly looks over. “Wow, you really weren’t kidding.”

You can’t help the muted groan. Shyster continues, unperturbed. “But then again, I wouldn’t worry too much.” Still looking over at their table, he raises his voice enough so they can clearly hear him. “Mr. Spirit won’t try anything because this is a fine dining establishment.”

Really, you’d rather the floorboards swallow you up here and now than be forced to suffer this.

“Anyways,” Shyster turns back to you, voice lowered once more, “I’m kinda curious as to what’s got his undies in a bunch. You mentioned the Star Piece in the mines to him, right?”

Ignoring the fact Geno is in fact naked - that cape covers _nothing_ \- you nod. “Yeah; I pretty much blew my cover by saying the ‘third’ Star Piece. As in I know where every other Star Piece is.”

“Oof, that’s rough. Isn’t that basically his entire purpose for being here?”

You say nothing but aggressively cut out a bite of your own steak and shove it into your mouth.

“Regardless, he has his business to attend to and we have ours,” Shyster says; of course he makes everything seem easier than it is. But you still listen as he tries to recap everything you’ve explained to his thus far, correcting him when he gets some things wrong. He finishes, grumbling, “So then what, seer? Anything else going to happen with Smithy’s forces?”

“...whatever happened to ‘Urchin?’”

Getting no reply, you just swallow a bite and nod. Leaning forward, you whisper, “Sorta. Smithy has three generals: Mack, Bowyer and Yaridovich. Mario and them already took care of Mack and Bowyer—”

“Mushroom Kingdom and Forest Maze, right?”

“—yup. Yaridovich’s gonna invade and takeover Seaside Town. I’m not sure when, but…” you trail off, shrugging. You’re not too keen on the idea, mainly because you weren’t lying when you told Geno you don’t want to get involved. You know how most self-inserts go: they try to change things and then the butterfly effect kicks them in the face.

“...you’ve got that look on your face that says you don’t wanna go,” Shyster observes. “I don’t think I have to remind you of our deal, but what about you wanting to see the ocean? Seaside Town’s got the best beach.”

You pause at that, bite hovering between your mouth and the plate. Setting down your fork, you sigh. “...going to the beach would be nice, don’t get me wrong, but that’s...that’s not all I want.”

Shyster stares at you, eye holes probing. “Then what is it that you want?”

_I don’t want to be alone_.

You shrug.

“I dunno,” you finally relent. “It—this is gonna sound weird, maybe even a little stupid, but I guess I-I’m still...waiting. Like, this is all just some dream that I’ll wake up from.” Too much, _too much_! You bleat out an awkward chuckle that’s not convincing at all, but it fills the air. “_A-a-hah_, I mean, th-that sounds pretty dumb; it’s already been over a week!”

Shyster says nothing and the tension inside roils around your heart like a vice.

“...there you go, hiding things again,” he finally says. Then he simply shrugs like it doesn’t bother him one bit. “Like I said, I don’t really mind, but it sure seems like _you_ do.” Well, he’s not exactly wrong.

Staring down at his nearly empty plate, Shyster continues. “Y’know, I kinda get what the old man—Mr. Shroomby was talking about. That you’re here for a reason; I can see it. And I guess what I’m saying is that maybe I can help you.” He looks up at you and simply states, “We made a deal, so we’re in this together.”

God, you’re such a sap. But you just smile at him and the two of you leave it at that.

“Regardless, I do think we should at least try to see what’s up with Seaside Town,” Shyster says. “Personally, traveling is enough for me, but actually doing something against Smithy would be the cherry on top the cake, if you get what I mean. Besides,” he leans forward conspiratorially, “imagine getting shit done while Mr. Spirit’s fumbling to catch up.”

An unattractive snort escapes before you can help it. And here you thought _you’re_ the spiteful one.

“You drive a mean bargain, pipsqueak.” Ignoring how one of his eyes twitches, you go on, “I like the way you think. What else are we gonna do now that he’s gonna be hunting us down?”

Honestly, it’s not that bad when you think about it. Sure, Geno knows that you know where all his Star Pieces are, but he should be able to find them just fine on his own alongside Mario and the rest of their group. Plus all the Star Pieces would be a lot safer in their hands rather than your own; not that you doubt Shyster’s capabilities, but your own on the other hand...best to be on the safer side with the world at stake. Plus you’d have no responsibilities! Hooray!

“Not to freak you out or anything, but I also think we should high-tail it ‘cause I think we’re being followed,” Shyster says.

You nearly choke on a piece of carrot. “Wuh-_what_?!”

Shyster finishes the last bite of his food, wiping his mask with a napkin. Lowering his voice again, he states, “Remember those weird tracks I kept seeing in the Forest Maze? Well, they started appearing by our camp back in Rose Way and haven’t stopped since. Then a pair of…really weird tracks appeared alongside them recently—”

“How recently?”

Shyster crosses his arms, looking down in thought. “Unsure, but I started noticing them the closer we got to Moleville. Haven’t seen them since we got here.”

You fumble with what to say next. “So when were you gonna tell me? I kinda need to know these things!”

“Oh? You mean you don’t know everything? I take everything back; some seer you are.”

“_Not the time_!” you hiss. Damn everything, the butterfly effect must’ve caught up with you already.

“Relax,” Shyster commands but it falls flat compared to the fresh wave of adrenaline flowing through you. “I don’t like it any more than you, but the fact remains it’s pretty suspicious. What I don’t understand is the owner of the first tracks had plenty of time to, I don’t know, rob us, but they didn’t. But those other tracks...who knows what they want.”

Sighing, Shyster finishes by stating, “I think we should head out in the morning. Chances are if Seaside Town’s gonna get taken over soon, then whoever’s following us won’t do so into danger.”

Begrudgingly, you nod along. “Sounds like as good a plan as anything.”

“Maybe the beach will make up for it.”

You snort. “Here's to hoping.”

Cool, already on the run and it’s been...what? Nearly a couple of weeks? This is _exactly_ the kind of self-insert shenanigans you wanted to throw yourself headfirst into. You’re nailing it.

After finishing your dinner, you and Shyster retire to your room. If you blatantly put a hand up to shield your view of Geno when walking past their table, well, who’s to say you actually did in the first place? And if you continue ignoring him even after the holes he’s drilled through your skull, that’s another thing entirely. Maybe Shyster harshly whispering “play nice” as he walked past had something to do with it, but you digress.

When it’s time to go to sleep, you briefly argue with Shyster over who gets the bed. It comes to an end when you mention what a waste it’ll be if he doesn’t use it; besides, harder surfaces are better for human spines. At least that’s the kinda true excuse you used.

It wouldn’t be Shyster if he didn’t grumble about it under his breath while crawling under the thick comforter. Oddly enough, he keeps his shoes on but you figure that’s normal for Shy Guys.

Only when you’ve made sure your door’s locked do you curl up on the wooden floor, wrapped in your quilt. Falling asleep proves to be surprisingly easy, given the fact you managed to piss Geno off and collect a few stalkers along the way.

*** * * * * * ***

The following morning did not go as planned. Like, at all.

Sure, maybe you did try to sneak out of the room’s only window to try and avoid seeing a certain spirit, and maybe it actually worked since there’s only one story to the inn, but you didn’t really expect _this_ utter tomfoolery.

“Well, well, lookee who finally showed up! _Har har har_, about time!”

“‘About time’ fer sure! Me gills are parched an’ I miss th’ ship, so let’s wrap up here!”

Of all the stupid things to happen, you were certainly _not_ expecting to see some of Johnny’s crewmates scampering about the area. But as much as you’d love to think you’re still dreaming, two bandana-wearing and spear-toting sharks are clearly standing in front of you. They may be smiling, but those razor-sharp teeth don’t make you feel any better about your situation.

Clutching the leash of your bag like a lifeline, you allow yourself a stressed giggle. “U-uhhh, pretty far inland for a couple of chondrichthyes, aren’t ya?” Hell, you didn’t know fish could walk on land! Then again, this is _Mario_ so who knows what to expect.

The blue-bandana’s grin briefly falters. “Whaddya yabberin’ about now? Just come nice an’ easy, understood?”

Okay, so clearly these goons want to kidnap you, but what the everloving _fuck_ do they want with you?

The two sharks share a bout of crude laughter and even the cool morning air can’t banish the heated flush; you _really_ need to learn how to keep some of your thoughts inside. Besides, how long does it take for Shyster to checkout? A little bit of help would be appreciated right about now.

The red-bandana keeps laughing, but the blue-bandana halts himself enough to bite out, “We gotta live one here, _har har_! Keep it up and ya’ll fit right in wit’ the crew!”

Time to do what you do best when under pressure: being completely unable to shut up. “Sooo...are you going to, uh, tell me, ooor…? Don’t you think it’s fair I know, ‘cause, like, I’m _clearly_ the victim here.”

The two sharks just share another look before guffawing some more, probably at your expense. Works out just fine for you; you could find out why some of Johnny’s crew are all the way out here and stall for someone to intervene because _pirates_. A quick glance around shows no one in the immediate vicinity, still too early in the morning for the local moles to be taking a break from mining. If you try hard enough, you can hear the steady rhythm of _clink-clanks_ echoing from the mines.

“Oh?” Blue bandana sneers. “Ya tellin’ me that you _don’t_ know what’s goin’ on here? Well, isn’t it jus’ our lucky day, eh?”

Red bandana scratches the underside of his...chin?—snout with a fin. “That or th’ lizard dared to swindle us, matey.”

At his words, blue bandana automatically points his spear directly at you and you immediately hold your hands up in surrender. With the sharp metal barely an inch away from your throat, blue bandana growls out, “Oh yeah? So lemme know, _Sharkbait_, are ya the seer th’ purple lizard keeps blabbin’ about?”

_Play dumb and stall for time_. That’s the only half-baked plan you’re able to come up with and you figure it’s better than nothing at this point.

Unfortunately, the first words out of your mouth are as follows: “Croco, you _bitch_.”

Man, dealing with a pissed-off Geno would be _so_ much easier than dealing with a pair of pirates from a later-level area. If stats worked like they do in the game, then it’d take a couple others to get rid of these would-be schmucks. In other words, you’re absolutely screwed unless a miracle happens right about now.

...nothing but another lukewarm morning breeze. Welp, that sucks.

The tension is abruptly broken by the sharks resuming their cackling, though blue bandana doesn’t lower his spear while red decides to join his crewmate in shoving a point in your face. Briefly stopping, blue nudges red and barks out, “Whaddya know, looks like th’ shrimp knows the lizard! _Har har_…!”

“Makes our job easier, me thinks.” Red bandana wavers the tip of his spear tauntingly. “Th’ lizard told us ye know where treasure be; says he overheard ye talkin’ about it in Rose Town—_ack_!”

Red shuts up pretty fast after blue shoves him and you hope they don’t accidentally stab you.

“Ah, that was great an’ all,” blue bandana starts again, whapping the flat side of his spear against your cheek. Momentarily stunned with fear, he nonchalantly continues, saying, “But that don’ prove anything. Say, if yer _really_ a seer, then what’s our boss’s name, eh? Hardly no one knows ‘cept fer us of his crew.”

_Stall, stall, stall_...what the heck is Shyster doing in there, having a picnic?!

Your heart feels about ready to burst with how hard it seems to be pounding. It’s when the sharks grow impatient enough to start jabbing their spears toward you do you finally stutter out, “J-Johnny Jones, okay?! Jonathan ‘Johnny’ Jones!”

The change is immediate: both sharks allow their spears to droop while they high-five in glee.

“Ye hear that, matey?! They’re th’ real deal!”

“We’ll be rich fer sure, _har har harr_!”

You’re about ready to spring and run, scream for attention, do _something_, but you thankfully don’t have to. A very familiar whistle screeches through the air, sharper than the sharks’ cheering.

The projectile hits its mark - specifically blue bandana’s back - and with a growl, both fish turn around.

“_RUN_!”

You don’t think twice after hearing Shyster’s command, hastily shoving past the spears still in your way. Your knee is wobbly but you press forward, sprinting toward the ledge from which Shyster is perched, who continues to aim and fire at the sharks undoubtedly chasing you down.

You hastily climb up the stone, nearly losing your footing but Shyster is there to yank you up. Ignoring the sharks cursing below you, you push Shyster toward the mountain of stone from which you can see a large opening of the mine entrance. Without waiting, you explain between breaths, “There! The mines’re a maze; we can lose them in there probably!”

Shyster wordlessly agrees, opting to run alongside you into the cavern.

Despite the protests of a few moles still hammering away with their pickaxes, Shyster immediately beckons you to an unattended cart. Jumping in, he waves rapidly. “Get in; these railways seem to work!” As you struggle to do as he says, he hurriedly calls out to a few overall-clad moles, “Sorry, but gotta borrow this for a bit!”

Once secured atop a small pile of coal, Shyster immediately pulls a lever and—is that a wheel?

“Hold on!” He doesn’t have to tell you twice; the initial lurch is enough to have you gripping the sides.

The cart moves completely how you _don’t_ expect it to: _fast_.

If you let out a shrill shriek after nearly getting your head shaved off your shoulders, no one seems to be complaining. The thrill of wind licking at your eyes doesn’t last too long, however. In fact, it probably lasts only a few seconds before you hear Shyster curse out loud immediately before the cart rams into a wall.

Peeling yourself away from Shyster, you can only sit still in both shock and fear when you notice a faint trembling. Sure enough, after gaining your bearings enough to get out of the now-defunct minecart, the rumbling only increases until the local lamplights flicker. After a moment it seems to pass—

_Ka-boom_!

“...that didn’t sound good,” you remark.

“You think?”

“Actually? Not much, right now. Too hopped up on adrenaline.”

Shyster doesn’t respond, apparently too caught up with the fact the way you barreled down is now completely blocked off with rubble. Faintly, you can hear worried voices drifting through the cracks. So _that_ was that big explosion.

“Well,” you begin, “bright side is that those sharks can’t follow us now.” Shyster belatedly agrees with a terse nod.

Hesitantly, the both of you glance back to the wall the minecart is resting against; for some reason, the rails end there while another path lies to the immediate right. A quick peek down the dark corridor shows nothing but more dirt and stone illuminated by the small flames of the strung up lamps. It’s completely silent. And eerie.

“I guess we have no choice but to make our way through the mines,” Shyster summarizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...okay, so—stoic, cool Geno is great and all, but...what if...he was as animated as his in-game sprites?
> 
> (Please don't hurt me. <strike>I'm already sick.</strike>)
> 
> On a completely unrelated note, I sure do have a thing for making characters outta pre-existed assents, don't I...? Huh. Welp, enjoy sharks!


	5. Crashing Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spelunking in a mine system goes about as well as reader expects.

“Lemme guess,” Shyster crosses his arms despite the heavy bags he’s carrying, “you also wanted to go into these mines because you know Croco is here and since he sold you out—”

“What an _asshole_.”

“—I’m rubbing off on you. Back to my point: you want to get back at him, don’t you?”

“Uhhh,” you drawl, rubbing your throat; for being in a _Mario_ game, you didn’t really expect to nearly get skewered. Actually, isn’t that one their spells or something? “I mean...when you put in like _that_, I sure wouldn’t mind planting my foot up his butt. Dude deserves it.”

Shyster huffs amusedly. “So does that mean you wanted to do the same to me when I said I was gonna rob you?”

“...do you want the truth?”

“Wow, color me surprised,” the Shy Guy dryly intones. “Considering how quick you were to put your arms up, I’d have figured you’ve got a limp spine to go along with that wet noodle of a knee. At least you had the decency to run when I said so.”

“Wow,” you mimic, “rude. What, did you expect me to sit there and take it?”

“You said you were mostly driven by spite, so who knows what crazy things go through your head.”

“Thanks; I try. Maybe next time I’ll end up bleeding all over the ground because I decided I wanted to be a pin-cushion.”

“...that’s morbid,” Shyster grimaces. “And let’s hope there isn’t a ‘next time.’”

“I blame the lingering adrenaline,” you quip. “Near-death experiences tend to do that sort of thing.”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about that.” Ignoring how low your heart drops you just nod and allow Shyster to follow up. “I saw most of it go down, and I tried to make as much an opening as I could, given the circumstances. Sorry for nearly letting them stab you. So what’s the big deal?”

You snort before diving into the explanation. “From what I can parce together, Croco overheard us talking about the treasure in the Forest Maze—”

“Wait a minute.” You watch Shyster bend down and draw a shape in the dirt. Closer inspection reveals it to be a footprint, specifically Croco’s if the three talons are anything to go by. “I’ve never seen the guy, but does this—?”

You cut him off. “Yup. Lemme guess; those were the ‘weird’ tracks you were talking about back around Rose Way and in the Forest Maze, right?” The Shy Guy nods and you continue, explaining, “Croco is this purple dinosaur lookin’ guy; wears a red top hat and always carrying a bag? He’s a thief, but _apparently_ he’s also in the business of selling information for some quick cash too. At least that’s what those two sharks made it sound like; said Croco told them about a seer - me - who knows where treasure is. Which isn’t completely true, but details.”

Shrugging, you finish by saying, “Since they’re _pirates_...you get the idea.”

“...I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you know who they are.”

“You’d be right,” you say, stepping over one of those boulder-looking enemies. Although you’ve encountered a few of them, they seem lenient enough to let you pass relatively undisturbed, unlike those flames of which Shyster has shot down several. “They’re based off the coast of Seaside Town in a place called the Sunken Ship; creative name, I know.”

Shyster lets out a low whistle. “That far, eh? Do they have anything to do with the invasion?”

“Kind of, but probably not in the way you’re thinking.” Noting the confused expression on his mask, you elaborate, “If things go as planned, then they _should_ end up as valuable allies who’ll help out with taking care of Yaridovich kinda. That doesn’t sound reassuring, does it?”

“Not particularly,” Shyster agrees. Plucking his trusty slingshot from his belt, he aims at another of those floating flames on the other side of the cavern. Letting loose the stone with a sharp _crack_, it hits true and the monster disappears in a plume of smoke. You’re just thankful you haven’t run into any Pulsars yet; instant KOs can’t be that fun.

“Do we have any Pick-me-ups?”

Shyster pauses. “...I don’t think so.”

“Neat! Let’s hope we don’t run into any purple crystal-like monsters.”

After some more walking, you bring up the sharks again. “Honestly, I’m kinda worried since they have no business being all the way out here. As far as I know, they don’t really leave their ship.” You wordlessly offer to carry around his bag and Shyster shrugs it off for you.

“I don’t like them,” the Shy Guy blandly states. “I have a feeling they’re going to make my job a lot harder than it needs to be. What is it with you and attracting unnecessary attention anyways? First with those pogo-stick losers, then Mr. Spirit and then you managed _pirates_?”

“Maybe I’m going for a record here. Like, I was all for staying in the background but _then_ everything that could wrong _did_. Trust me; I don’t like this any more than you.”

You rest on a nearby bench, futilely trying to rub the aches in your knee away while Shyster meanders about to pick up some more ammo. In the low light given off the the lanterns strewn about the empty room, you can’t help but think about your circumstances.

Sure, you kinda want to do something meaningful since you were always someone unimportant. While they were bright and warm, you were just a shadow flickering behind everyone else. But the thought of being out in the open for everyone to actually _see_...for some reason, the thought terrifies you.

You continue watching the Shy Guy as he makes his rounds, leaning down and pocketing some stones here and there. Unbidden, your lips begin to pull down. Having a companion is basically everything you could ask for and more; that sort of loneliness, unable to bask in the light everyone else seems to give off, is something you thought you’d carry with you until the end. As it is, you feel bad for not telling Shyster the truth.

You’re basically just a parasite, leeching off the potential he’s unknowingly offered.

This sort of kinsmanship is basically everything you’ve wanted and _more_. You’re not alone any longer, and now you have the means to actually _be_ someone, do _something_ aside from fading away into obscurity.

But you can’t deny your nature: you’re a coward, through and through. Being brave is something you’re unfamiliar with because change is something you have little fondness for. Being different? Changing yourself? Laughable.

Openly frowning down at your lap, you glare at the misshapen lumps of your bad knee. You’re a weak, pathetic person, physically and otherwise. So much so that you’re willing to keep feeding lies to Shyster if it means you can pretend some of his unabashed bravery will eventually rub off on you. Maybe then you’ll be okay with everything. You doubt it, but hoping surely can’t hurt any more than it already does.

You perk up the moment you notice Shyster waving at you from the other end of the room. Slapping on a tired grin, you get up and continue walking alongside him, slowly but surely making your way further into the mines.

Unfortunately, as with everything you’ve thus encountered, the mines are a _lot_ more expansive than what they are in-game.

“_Ugh_, why is everything bigger?”

“Do _not_ start with that again.”

Biting your lip in order to stop another complaint before it came out, you instead cry out when you trip. Managing to catch yourself on a support beam, you glare down at the railroad tracks nearly hidden under piles of dust and dirt. The mild snickering filling the otherwise empty halls is courtesy of Shyster.

It feels like you haven’t seen the sun in hours, but you know it’s probably only been around one. Still, cramped halls filled with the acrid stench of coal and poor lamplight isn’t what you’d consider welcoming. You’ve seen and heard enough horror stories about people who wander into forsaken tunnels. No wonder why no other moles seem to have been around these parts recently; the monsters _suck_.

“Oh shi—_watch out_!”

Shyster apparently sees the oncoming threat before even you, successfully ducking beneath the hoard of greet bats. Unfortunately, as you’re standing just behind him the bats converge upwards and the repeated smacks of leathery wings against your face isn’t something you want to repeat.

“_Argh_! Do something, _please_!” you gripe, swinging your arms around haphazardly in a poor attempt to ward off the Enigma. Double unfortunately, this only seems to anger the monster further because all the bats swarm into the grouped form you’re more familiar with. Without warning, the large monster immediately rushes at you, knocking your off your feet.

Skidding a good ways away, Shyster finally lets loose some rocks. Soon the cavern is filled with the pained screeches of bats until every individual disappears in a poof of smoke.

Heaving a small sigh, he rummages through the small satchel attached to his belt. “...all my ammo, gone. How annoying.”

“How annoying is _right_.” You claw yourself upright, spitting out dirt all the while. Idly, you’re aware of the stinging sensation typically associated with cuts all over your face. “Am I bleeding?”

Shyster looks you over before settling on your face. “Not too much, but we’ve got alcohol if you—”

He trails off, eyes squinting at something further down the corridor. Belatedly, you can hear a muted chorus of snapping echoing off the walls. The longer you listen the louder they become.

Lo and behold, the small light of the lanterns shows the culprits: a _bunch_ of Enigmas. Like, maybe a dozen or so.

You and Shyster immediately start booking it in the opposite direction, ignoring all the screeching behind you. Man, your knee is going to be feeling it in the morning.

“This way!” Shyster yells over the hoard of screaming bats. “I think there was a minecart over here!”

You’re too busy panting for air to verbally answer him, so you just hurry alongside him. The two of you keep backtracking until the Shy Guy abruptly turns down another path you didn’t take, and you nearly trip again in your haste to keep up. Sure enough, his keen observation skills prove themselves again because another, distinctly rustier cart is sitting unattended on similarly dilapidated tracks.

With somewhat great difficulty, you pry yourself into the cart behind Shyster, who immediately mans the front levers. After a few ominous sounding clicks and grinding noises the thing starts moving, albeit slowly.

“C’mon, c’mon,” you urge the object nonsensically as the sound of beating wings grows closer. “Please, go fast—_aaahhh_!”

It listens to you, going from 0 to 10 in the span of a few seconds. You barely remember to cling to the sides of the cart, unholy screeching being cut off the moment the cart begins rocketing forward. Belatedly, you realize the thing you’re clinging to is none other Shyster himself, who seems too busy with driving the thing to demand you release him.

You try to ignore the sickening thumps as the cart barrels through the conveniently low-flying Enigmas and the large clouds of smoke they leave behind with their demise. The remaining monsters screech angrily, but their voices are lost to the rush of non-existent wind caused by your speed until you can no longer hear them.

“What’s—” you hear Shyster begin before he abruptly commands, “_hold on_!”

Blearily opening your eyes, you can only watch in fascination and horror as the dark caves open up to sunlight, bright and warm. Soon enough real wind is brushing alongside you while you take in your surroundings: a rickety railway, precariously suspended alongside the mountain the mines are dug into. Peeking over the side shows solid ground very, _very_ far down.

Gulping, you continue clinging to Shyster and ignoring how bumpy the ride is.

The distant view of Booster Tower and the land before it eventually melds away into the familiar dark tunnels as the railway reenters the mines. It takes a bit for your eyes to readjust to the lack of light, but when they do—

Your fingers dig into Shyster’s surprisingly plush form. “Brake, brake, _braaake_!”

“I’m—_trying_—” And he is, using all his weight to pull one of the levers until the harsh scream of metal-on-metal echoes throughout the cave. You reach over and pull in tandem, but the brakes refuse to budge any more.

You blearily watch as the minecart screams toward another exit, boarded off with rotting planks of wood.

“_Brace yourself_!” Shyster yells but it’s mostly lost to your shrill screech.

With a resounding _KA-BOOM_, the minecart breaks through the wood. You barely register all the splinters flying while you cower behind Shyster, yell cut off when the sensation of weightlessness comes over you. Sure enough, you’ve been forcefully ejected from the cart, leaving you twisting and tumbling through the air.

It takes a bit for you to also register how tightly you’re clutching onto Shyster’s small frame, probably crushing him uncomfortably against your ribs. And then you’re not, too busy trying to shield yourself while you skid across the ground ungracefully.

You eventually come to a stop, face planted in the dirt and butt up in the air.

“Um...are you okay?”

Prying your head from the ground, you look up—well, wouldja look at that? Exactly the people you wanted to see.

Groaning, you spit out more dirt and ignore the bewildered stares of Mario and Mallow; Geno just looks mildly unimpressed. You pry yourself into a sitting position, eyeing the three heroes before looking down at yourself—“Aw man, this is gonna be a hassle and a half to wash out,” you complain, seeing all the soot caked onto your clothes in the dim light.

A wooden hand shoves itself into your view. You shoot a distrustful glare at the spirit, who returns with his normal, deadpan expression.

Wrinkling your nose, you tear your eyes away to look behind you. Thankfully Shyster doesn’t look too bad; maybe a tad bit worse for wear, but nowhere near as mangled as you apparently look like, if the grimaces on both Mario and Mallow’s faces are anything to go by. Then again, it’s not like any of you are going to win any beauty pageants, covered in grime as you are.

The Shy Guy walks up to you and in a huge power move wordlessly offers to help you. You readily accept and after struggling back to your feet you shoot a satisfied grin at the miffed spirit.

If he had eyebrows, you’re positive Geno would’ve raised one. “Fancy seeing you here,” the spirit intones, clearly mocking your previous words. Despite the glower you’re throwing his way, he goes on, “I thought you said you didn’t want any part of this, yet here you are...in the mines...where the _third Star Piece is_.”

“Actually,” Mallow starts, rubbing his head. “I was kinda wondering why you’re here, too. We didn’t even see you leavin’ the inn this morning with him,” the prince gestures at Shyster.

“Oh, yeah, _ha ha_,” you laugh, crossing your arms and wincing because they’re scraped to heck and back. “About that: I crawled out the window trying to avoid you and then almost got stabbed.”

Geno points up as if to reprimand you with a glare before trailing off into a wilting look of confusion and shock. Mario and Mallow share his sentiments.

Ignoring the pointed look Shyster is shooting up at you, you just awkwardly laugh it off. “It was...uh, a hectic morning. S-say, have you found Dyna and Mite yet—oh wait, that’s not until later. Uhhh, whoops! Huh-how about Croco? You see him yet? Kicked his butt, maybe?” You may be smiling but internally you’re screaming.

While both the plumber and prince exchange disturbed expressions, Geno begins rubbing his temples again. Honestly? That’s fair.

“Hold up.” You share a glance with Shyster before looking back to the doll. Fixing you with another incredulous scowl - seems to be his default around you - he grits out, “How did you even get in the mines? The main entrance was blocked off by a slide!”

You and Shyster share another wordless look. Hesitantly, you pipe up, “Uhhh...that was probably our fault; crashed a minecart—” The trio glances at the one you just flew from, currently lying in disarray some ways away. “—_another one_, okay? Besides, I wasn’t driving.”

“Hey!” Shyster barks. “Not like you’d know how to drive one of those things!”

“_Bah_, details.”

A tired groan interrupts you. Geno’s crossing his arms and staring down at his boots, one of which is tapping. Red eyes accusatory and pinned on you, he says, “So it’s your fault Dyna and Mite are trapped in here. Care to explain why you’re also wandering around the mines?”

...well, that makes you feel kinda bad. But you shrug it off, knowing Mario and them will rescue the moles without a hitch so long as you don’t accompany them and ruin more things.

“We’re lost,” Shyster grumbles, looking up at Geno. “I’m willing to bet you’re in the same boat.”

“...you’re right,” Geno agrees after a beat and—oh no. You don’t like the calculating look his features have gained and he’s looking at you; _dang it_. “It _is_ pretty convenient. Say, since you know where the Star Piece is—” Wow, is he even _trying_ to be subtle anymore?

You immediately blurt out, “I don’t.” But then you know _he_ knows that’s a blatant lie so you try again; “I mean—honestly? I have no idea where the exit is. A-all I know is that, um...what was it again…? _Right_! I think there should be a bunch of Bob-ombs near—_actually_, how’s about another deal?”

Geno glares at you.

You wiggle your brows. “C’mon, I’ll tell you some more info and you’ll go on your merry way. Besides, I’m kinda accident-prone so I wouldn’t recommend sticking around—it’s a win-win! Whaddya say?”

“Y’know, sounds like you and this Croco guy would get along just fine,” Shyster observes.

“And here I was thinking we were friends.”

“You’re making my job a lot more difficult than it needs to be,” Geno grumbles. You keep grinning at him until he sighs yet again. “I’m also beginning to wonder if you’ve been listening to me at all. You don’t seem to understand how important my mission is, and besides that you don’t even seem to _care_ beyond any immediate threats!”

Your grin falters briefly, but the doll keeps steamrolling over you. “If you’re going to be traveling - the same as us - then why not do so together? If I haven’t made it clear enough, it’d benefit both parties—”

Geno throws his arms out in frustration. “—so why don’t you help me like you’re _supposed_ to?!”

The cold that washes over you can’t be attributed to the wind because there _is_ no wind in these caves. If you concentrate hard enough, it almost appears as if the shadows are bending as if caught in some unseen current. All of it feels too tight, too cramped, enough to dispel what little air you have in your lungs.

Aside form the startled looks both Mario and Mallow are aiming at the spirit, you know your own face can’t be too far off.

“...what?” Shyster breathes besides you. Yeah, your thoughts exactly.

Geno has the decency to wilt under the sudden scrutiny he finds himself in. His wooden jaw creaks open but no words come out. He looks as surprised as everyone else does.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the kid from the Mushroom Kingdom!”

You feel your lips immediately dip down into a scowl; you’d recognize that sleezy voice anywhere. Turning your head toward where his voice is coming from, you glare up at the opening of another tunnel where the purple crocodile stands. He looks bit beat up, so you figure he already got his butt handed to him by Mario and company.

He lets loose a throaty chuckle at your appearance before his eyes drift over to the three heroes. “_Ergh_, an’ I see ya keep poor company.” Yup, definitely lost a fight. But the toothy smile comes back when he has the audacity to ask, “So how’s it been?”

“_You_!” Ignoring his dry peels of laughter, you thrust a finger at him. “You overgrown lizard piece of garbage; _you sold me out_!”

“Whoa there,” Croco lazily grins, “you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

A frustrated noise creeps out between your gritted teeth. From your peripheral, you catch Mario throwing out his hands in a fisticuffs kinda way while Mallow reaches for his cymbals. After a few clicks, you watch Geno’s fingers unhinge into the finger shot weapon-type. Considering the narrowed red eyes, you’re not surprised to see Croco eye the exit behind him.

...not gonna lie; they’re pretty dang cool. You’d just drag them down if you joined.

“Would ya look at that; gotta run—_yeowch_!”

You look down at Shyster and his slingshot which is suspiciously empty. “_That’s_ for making my life harder than it needs to be!”

Croco appears mildly confused before glancing between you and Shyster—then he breaks out into another sly grin.

Rife with indignation - because those sharks are still gonna be after you, regardless of if you did travel with the heroes - you stumble over to a pile of crumbled ore and gravel. You hastily claw your way up it with a speed that can only be achieved through pure spite alone.

Croco doesn’t wait around the moment he notices your approach. With a final chortle, he exclaims, “I’m outta here!”

And he turns and disappears into the darkness.

Shyster appears besides you and offers to help you back up. Once you’ve regained your footing you don’t hesitate to continue limping down the same tunnel Croco vanished into.

“Hey!” You pause and glance back at Geno, who shouts, “Where do you think you’re going?!”

Not missing a beat, you flippantly reply, “I’m gonna strangle that lizard. Besides, I bet he knows the quickest way out and I’m sick and tired of these mines.” Shyster seems to immediately perk up at the possibility of freedom, so you make to follow the stupid crocodile—

“What about the Star Piece?!”

Groaning, you roll your eyes before facing the upset spirit again. As rapidly as you can, you spit out, “Deeper in the mines you’ll find some railways littered with Bob-ombs; follow their trail and they’ll probably lead you to a room where Punchinello—er, another purple, red-hat wearing guy is. He’ll be throwing bombs; can’t miss him. Beat him and you’ll find the orange Star Piece and then the two kids. Also, he’ll blow up the mines. Only kind of, though. Be careful.”

You hurry behind Shyster into the cavern, snickering when you hear Geno’s anguished, “That—you can’t just say that and _leave_!” behind you.

*** * * * * * ***

Turns out following Croco was a pretty dang good idea, even if it was just an excuse you cooked up on the spot to avoid Geno. Still, you won’t deny it’s a shame that the crocodile’s long gone.

“I never thought I’d see the light of day again…”

“Oh please,” Shyster berates besides you, “it wasn’t that bad. The worst of it was that swarm of bats—”

“They didn’t even hurt you; it was _my face_ that suffered the most! How does it look, by the way?” Shyster makes a so-so motion and you grumble under your breath. “Great.”

You and Shyster walk alongside another railway track, this one clearly well cared for with not even a speck of rust staining its shining surface. The afternoon air is calm and warm, a pleasant contrast to the chilled tunnels which make up the coal mines. With the sun beating overhead and Booster Tower spiraling from the horizon, you actually feel relaxed.

Once you find a relatively undisturbed and flat chunk of rock atop the mountain, you and Shyster sit down for a quick lunch. Although your plans still concern going to Seaside Town and seeing what’s up with Yaridovich, those sharks put a damper on it. After all, the Sunken Ship is basically a stone’s throw away from the beachside town.

Some back and forth later, you agree to continue westward since - if things remain like they are in-game - the pirates shouldn’t get involved with Yaridovich. This counterproductively leaves Seaside Town as a safety net from the sharks but not so much from Smithy’s influence. After all, you _do_ have an idea of what’s supposed to go down, as opposed to getting kidnapped by a couple sharks who have no business breathing on land.

An abrupt hush followed by minute trembling interrupts your babble.

A few moments later the quaking subsides and you allow a smile. Shyster’s incredulous mask is all you need to state, “Looks like they beat Punchinello.”

Shyster lets out a harsh snort and it’s all you need to join in with your stuttered chuckles.

“Well, lookit who we have here, matey! Caught the rascals havin’ a picnic!”

“_Yar har har_!” The blue bandana idly taps his spear against the smooth stone, clearly drinking in your stupefied expression. “Didja think the likes of you could get away so easily? We don’ let prey get away, don’cha know!”

Swallowing a curse because he’s sort of right - sharks _are_ considered apex predators, after all - you ignore replying in favor of plucking your bags from the ground. You still ignore the two fish and begin stumbling away from them, allowing Shyster to lead you further down the tracks. Thankfully, you have enough distance between you that you have a pretty good head start.

Regardless of how the two sharks keep chanting “Ya can’t run forever!” among things like “Me gills!” and “Why don’t ye just come nice an’ easy, fer pearl’s sake!” you don’t pause in your endeavor to get away. If anything, it spurns you further because one: it’s hilarious and two: it _can’t_ be easy running on land with fins.

What makes their approach more difficult is the fact that, somehow, Shyster is both running and pelting them both with his slingshot. Among the bandana’s cries of pain, Shyster cries out, “Go back to the ocean, you dumb fish!”

He reels back again, aiming at the blue bandana. The shark lets out a sharp hiss, rubbing his non-eyepatch covered eye. “Keep it up and you’ll lose the other eye, too!” Geeze, and Shyster says _you_ have issues...

Among the unsavory aspects of being a self-insert, there are some perks. Mainly being conventionally lucky at opportune times, like right now: near the upcoming bend of the railways sits an unattended minecart.

“Third time’s the charm!” You don’t hesitate to pluck Shyster off the ground before shoving him into the driver’s seat despite his protests. With some minor hassel you climb in behind him.

Some shifting gears later and the minecart starts moving. Unable to help yourself, you wave at the two sharks and stick your tongue out. Knowing your record, it’ll probably bite you in the butt later but it feels _too_ good to resist now.

As you speed away you giggle while the bandana’s silhouettes grow tinier and tinier; even so their frustrated antics are still clear as the noon sky. Still high off the fact you’ve successfully evaded the pirates yet again, you continue laughing and enjoying the breeze whipping across your cheeks.

“Oh man.” You rub a tear from your eye. “That was brilliant.”

Shyster scoffs, still focused on driving. “If by ‘brilliant’ you mean _exhausting_. I’ve had more action within the past week than I’ve had for most of my life. Frankly, I only expect it to get worse the longer I hang around you.”

“Pssh, _please_,” you grin. “No one can resist my charm.”

“Apparently not, danger magnet.”

You can’t help but laugh again, bright and clear.

The resulting minecart ride is pretty lax, all things considered. After falling into a companionable silence, the only sounds filling the air between the two of you are the squeaks and screeches of the brakes. Even without letting him know, seems Shyster’s already aware of the ‘brake around corners’ rule when it comes to driving minecarts.

But as with most self-inserts, the whole ‘suspiciously lucky’ deal is, of course, balanced with the ‘horribly unlucky’ half of it.

Shyster harshly mutters what sounds like a curse in his born language. Turning around to glance at you through wide yet narrowed eye holes, he orders, “I know you’re probably tired of hearing me say this, but I’m gonna need you to _really_ hold on.”

Blinking owlishly, you glance over his head and—oh. Nothing but broken tracks and huge gaps ahead.

While Shyster complains about taking a wrong turn somewhere, you’re too busy realizing that the half-finished railways ahead resemble the latent portion of the minecart minigame. Unfortunately, you don’t even have an inkling of an idea of how you’re going to jump from one segment of track to the next; this is _real_ and there are no B-buttons to speak of.

Gripping the edges of the minecart, you can only screech in alarm when the first dip presents itself.

Much of the resultant ride is filled with your screeching and Shyster yelling at you to shut up. Then again, it’s not like you’ve ever been on a rollercoaster and even _then_ it would’ve been safer than whatever _this_ hot garbage is. Really, speeding down precarious platforms is definitely not how you planned to spend your afternoon. It also doesn’t help when, no matter how hard Shyster brakes, half the minecart still lifts off the bars around bends.

Adding to the potential of you having a premature heart attack is the abrupt hole you’re rapidly approaching. Despite your protests that there’s no conceivable way for your heavy cart to leap from one segment to the next, Shyster stonily commands you to “lift up” when he counts to three. Having zero idea of whatever _that_ implies, you nod along because you’re still too busy catching flies.

“Okay!” Shyster grits; he’s pulling pretty hard on one of several levers. “One...two...three—_now_!”

Swallowing a fearful yell - because who _doesn’t_ scream when they’re stressed? - you end up just...hopping from the minecart while still holding onto its rims. Apparently, Shyster basically does the same—after cranking back another lever which abruptly springs everything _up_.

The feeling of weightlessness is only punctuated by the shrill sound of groaning steel. Your poor heart can’t take much more of this bullcrap, you’re sure.

With a resounding thud and more metallic screams, you land surprisingly intact on the next section. Well, mostly intact; your ass kinda hurts now.

The whole ‘jumping’ deal continues for every subsequent gap in the tracks. Eventually you learn to actually somewhat enjoy the minor periods of being free from gravity, but not enough to _not_ be clenching your jaws shut in both anticipation and dread.

On a particularly harsh landing, your silence is broken by a strange sound which can pass for a stunted giggle.

“Are you enjoying this?!” Shyster demands, still too busy looking ahead to probably give you another incredulous glare.

Another wheezing sound emits from your throat. “Kinda! I mean, if this is how we’re gonna go out, might as well enjoy the ride, _ha ha_!”

“You’re _insufferable_!”

Once your cart lands on another relatively long stretch of uninterrupted track, Shyster swivels his head back and forth. It takes a bit to register the sound of braking, but it also takes you longer to realize the sound isn’t coming from _your_ cart. Matching his movements, you scour either side of the tracks until you spot another set of railways running adjacent to your own.

Sure enough, another cart carrying the main group screams down those tracks.

You’re close enough such that you can see how utterly haggard the trio is, while the two mole children accompanying them look fine and dandy. More surprising is how both Mallow and Geno appear to be holding on to dear life as Mario mans the steering wheel in obvious joy. Even weirder is how neither of Geno’s or Mario’s hats seem to be bothered by the wind. Ha, video-game logic at its finest.

It’s then that the spirit takes notice of your cart and shoots a quizzical stare at you. You snicker under your breath, returning it with a smile.

Over the wind whipping around you and the gap between the tracks, you yell, “How was Punchinello?!”

Geno remembers himself to glare accusatorily at you and you laugh again. The fact the three of them are covered head to toe in thick, sooty grime speaks volumes of how the encounter ended. Then again, even you can see the faintly glowing Star Piece clutched beneath Geno’s cape, so it still must’ve been a success.

“Don’t think this is over!” the spirit shouts, red eyes sparking in indignation. You roll your eyes; of _course_ it can’t be that easy.

Despite the bad blood between you and a particular doll, Mallow still waves at you from his position behind Geno. After another moment where you hesitantly wave back to a distressed but courteous prince, you frown in confusion when Geno looks ahead, eyes suddenly fearfully wide. Turning back to you, he makes a series of abortive measures, crossing his arms and shaking his head with a grimace.

“Uh-oh.” ...that doesn’t sound so good.

Turning back to Shyster, you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but then you make the mistake of looking up.

Sitting on the very edge of the railways is a striped roadblock, clearly denoting the sharp drop-off waiting at the end. Although Shyster is clearly trying his hardest to brake as attested by the harsh sound, you know at the speed you’re going it won’t work. There’s literally nothing you can do but accept your horrendous fate.

“Oh _shi_—”

Your curse devolves into a scream when your minecart screeches to an abrupt halt, courtesy of a few sandbags resting on the railway. Without decorum you and Shyster are both flung from the cart, left shrieking through the open air as is the case with you, though Shyster _did_ let out a tiny squawk at impact.

Everything seems to happen in slow motion; while flying through the air as majestically as a couple of flightless creatures can, you watch Mario’s cart drift underneath you. Before their path turns back toward the mountain and Moleville, three sets of aghast eyes greet your own with Mallow actually covering his mouth in shock.

Same here, buddy.

And that’s all you’re able to see before they curve away from you, likely going back to conveniently crash into Dyna and Mite’s home.

Still screaming like a lunatic, you try your hardest to reach out to Shyster who appears to be doing the same. It’s only once you manage to pull him closer that you look down at your trajectory. While solid land seems pretty far down, the fact isn’t as awful as you thought it’d be because there is also a relatively large pile of gravel resting benignly - and conveniently - underneath you.

…_there’s_ the notorious luck of a self-insert.

That feeling of weightlessness is emphasized during the apex of your freefall and you take the moment to clutch tighter onto Shyster before curling around him. Even if he’s sentient and all that, hugging a plush is supposed to alleviate stress too, right?

You stop screaming as soon as you impact the gravel. Even so, you crush Shyster against your ribs while the two of you slide down the loose matter. It takes the better part of minute to reach the bottom of the incline, but taking into account the two of you are still in one piece, it’s pretty much a huge success. The fact you stuck the landing is also a huge bonus.

Giddy from surviving that plummet, you throw your arms into the air. “_Woo-hoo_!”

Immediately plucking himself from your lap, Shyster begins brushing himself off while grumbling under his breath. With a final frustrated noise he stops trying to preen himself; it’s basically a lost cause. Just like you, his...robes? Yeah, his normal clothes or whatever are covered in so much soot he might as well be an Anti-Guy from _Paper Mario_.

You can’t help the laughter bubbling up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shyster sighs. “Laugh it up. Not like _you_ look any better.”

Shaking your head, you gasp for breath and clutch your blackened shirt. Sure, your clothes may be blackened to the point where you can’t even see the stripes, and sure, you’re a little torn up from spontaneously spelunking in a dungeon, but you made it out _fine_.

You and Shyster take a small break at the bottom of the gravel, wordlessly enjoying each other’s company. Looking up shows the sun to be making its way west, but from what you can tell there’s still hours of daylight left.

Once you’re ready and able, you and Shyster pick up your bags and walk aimlessly toward Booster Tower, since you know that’s the direction Seaside Town ultimately is. It’s when you’re meandering about a stoney area rife with plants that you’re _sure_ is Booster Pass that the next part of the plot manages to find you. Well, you’re pretty certain it’s Booster Pass because those weird, singing carrot monsters don’t appear anywhere else.

While there are a fair share of flies buzzing around Booster Pass, the humongous beetle that just flew into your face is something else entirely.

Like the idiot you are, you end up jerking in surprise when you feel its spindly legs trying to find purchase on your cheeks. “_Arrgh-pth-pthhhh_—!” And in your mouth, as it were.

While Shyster is too busy snickering at you, he apparently doesn’t see the trio of Snifits behind him. He also flinches when they hurry past him and—why is one readying their net?

_Smack_!

You let out a rather undignified sound once the plastic rim of the bug-catching net makes contact with your face. After your vision stops spinning, you tenderly hold your cheek and glare down accusingly at the Snifit. Despite your surprise that, yeah, this is the plot happening right here and now, you just got _smacked across the face_.

While the Snifit fumbles to place the newly captured beetle into one of those bug boxes, another one hesitantly approaches you. You notice the shiny pin denoting ‘3’ on his belt—right; isn’t this one the nice one?

“Ummm,” they drawl, lenses of their gasmask tilted down in what you assume is guilt. Shuffling their feet, they look up and mumble, “Sorry about that...we’re hunting beetles, so…”

Oh man, aren’t Snifits just another type of Shy Guy? They’re _adorable_.

As much as you want to punt number 1 off a cliff, you just sigh and tell 3 it’s fine, don’t worry too much about it. They still look pretty stricken, so you plaster a smile on and nearly clutch your chest because watching their lenses _smile back at you_ is nearly _too_ much to handle. Now satisfied, 3 clutches their own net closer and returns to their compatriots sides.

Heart giddy because _how cute_, you look to see if Shyster noticed - he’d probably call you a creep if he knew - but instead find 2 speaking with him.

“Why are you so far out here? _We’re_ supposed to be getting beetles for Booster!” 2 chastises a very confused Shyster.

The rude one plants their hands on their hips. “What’s the big deal anyways? I didn’t hear anything about some Snifit 4!”

Snifit 3 tilts their head questioningly. “Another Snifit…? Um, if so, can we be friends…?”

You slap a hand over your mouth; _holy crap_, they must think he’s one of them because of all the soot. Deciding to stay silent, you just watch it play out.

“Uh, sorry…?” Shyster apologizes, but sounds a lot more bewildered than anything.

“You should be! Not like some lackey like _you_ can catch beetles!”

“Yeah! Leave the beetle-catching to us! Say, why haven’t you gone back to the tower?”

“Um...did you lose your key…?”

Shyster looks between the three Snifits as they rapidly address him without pause. After briefly hesitating, he agrees, “Uh, yeah; one of those plant monsters ate it.” Artichokers, you recall. They are a pain to get rid of; luckily you haven’t run into one yet. Maybe because you steadily avoiding any bush that resembled one, but that’s besides the point.

“Oh.” Snifit 2 taps their chin as if contemplating something. “Why didn’t you just run away?”

“Who wastes time fighting monsters when you can be catching beetles?!”

“Oh dear...that sounds scary…”

Suddenly he finds himself under the scrutiny of all three Snifits, who haggle with him to basically return to the tower and “do his job,” whatever that is. Even after the three of them looked you over suspiciously - well, mainly 1 and 2 - they even said he could “bring back the human” if he wants, since you apparently helped catch a beetle. How generous of them.

With that out of the way, Snifit 3 shuffles over to Shyster and plucks a golden key from their belt. Shyster accepts it with a small nod and 3 briefly looks away almost bashfully before seeking comfort in the other two’s shadows.

Apparently playing his role as a minor Snifit well, Shyster then informs the trio he forgot what his duties back at the tower entailed. It takes only a few snide comments from 1 and reminders from 2 for Shyster to get the picture. Since he’s “just some lackey” - honestly it just sounds like they’re refusing the possibility of Snifit 4 - he’s to do whatever anyone else wants him to.

“You should know all this!” Snifit 1 berates. “Booster’s been too busy entertaining the princess from the sky to maintain the tower!”

Ah yes, there it is: plot. You don’t miss how Shyster suddenly seems a lot more interested in these Snifits.

Before Shyster can question his duties or the ‘princess from the sky’ further, another beetle buzzes past your head. You don’t even hesitate to flinch away and not a second later Snifit 1 wildly swings their net where you stood. If you concentrate hard enough, your cheek still feels a little swollen. Who knew those Snifits packed a mean punch?

“_Argh—get it_!” 1 orders and the other two lift their own nets with only 3 bidding you and Shyster a quiet farewell. You watch the trio scamper after the flying speck until they disappear over the horizon, where they’re likely to encounter Mario and them at Moleville.

The Shy Guy saunters up besides you, sighing. “...am I really _that_ dirty or are they just dimwitted?”

You giggle. “Probably a little of both.”

Shyster grumbles under his breath but says nothing more, instead opting to turn away and begin walking toward Booster Tower, which still seems a ways away. You hitch your bags up and follow him, grinning all the while. Although the two of you are pretty mussed up you can’t deny how spirited you are.

Now to figure out how to avoid Geno the next time he inevitably badgers you again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Hm. How 'bout them power shut-offs?
> 
> I'm also sicker than a dog right now, so sorry for the late update. Then again, this is why I tend to have pre-written chapters.
> 
> Enjoy!


	6. Riptide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular belief, Booster Tower is, in fact, _not_ a fun place to hang around. Source: one extremely unlucky reader.

“_Whew_! I’m beat!”

You plop yourself onto the bed and take the moment to stretch your taut muscles; spontaneous spelunking through the mines followed by an almost deadly roller coaster was not how you envisioned the day going. Then again, it’s not like you could’ve predicted that a couple of sharks from Johnny’s crew had it out for you. Compromises had to be made, even it it meant hiking through worn down coal tunnels instead of getting skewered.

Shyster grumbles “You’re telling me” from the other bed, looking down at his stained robes in disdain. Sighing ruefully - he did spend the better part of an hour scrubbing at himself - he glances over at you. “So how long do you think we’ll be here?”

Right; after running into those three Snifits you had journeyed to Booster Tower. It had taken the better part of the afternoon; so much so the sun was setting overhead when Shyster used the borrowed key to enter the building. After being welcomed as some of their own, the two of you had been ushered to one of the many rooms meant for the servants.

A couple of showers later and here you are now.

Humming, you look out the window and notice the reds and oranges of sunset slowly but surely melding into the indigo night sky. “If I had to guess, we’ll probably be leaving sometime tomorrow. Those Snifits should’ve told Mario and them about Princess P—er, Toadstool back at Moleville.”

Sitting up straighter, the Shy Guy pins you with an exasperated look. “So when those Snifits mentioned a ‘princess from the sky’—”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “The one and only princess, as far as I know. Exor sent her flying here and she’s been trapped ever since; I think Booster’s pretty enamoured with her or something.”

Shyster lets out a snort. “Looks like the princess _is_ in another castle after all.”

You slap your hands over your mouth. “_Snrrk_—!”

“Still, sounds kinda…” He makes a so-so motion with his hand and you laugh. “Then again, it does make sense in a weird kinda way. As far as I know, this tower’s supposed to function as an indoor amusement park for the general populace, so Booster trying to ‘entertain’ her fits the bill.”

“Huh. Never knew that.”

Rolling over, Shyster scoffs. “If you didn’t already prove me wrong a dozen times, I’d call nonsense on your seer abilities. How can you not know even the most basic things about the world but know everything about all _this_?”

You bite your lip; this is getting way too close for comfort. Sometimes you wish you didn’t have foreknowledge just so you could enjoy the world as an oblivious fool instead of some loser running away from a main character.

“Oh, y’know,” you begin, trying to sound as natural as possible. But your brain fails to come up with anything else, so you trail off awkwardly.

You hear Shyster sigh. “...does this have to do with that stuff you don’t want to tell me?”

Wincing, you look back out the window. “Kinda, yeah.”

Shyster makes a gruff noise. A quick glance later shows him offering you a look you would probably describe as calculating. His next words send your heart into a such a frenzy you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it hammering away: “And about what Geno said earlier—‘helping him like you’re supposed to;’ does _that_ have anything to do with it?”

As always, his perceptiveness always arises just when you’re the least equipped to deal with it coherently.

You furrow your brows and heave a sigh. You don’t want to confirm his - accurate - suspicions, but this is Shyster and after everything he’s done for you, the _least_ you could do is satisfy some of his curiosity. Even if it means he’ll piece it all together eventually, you’d do anything to ensure he won’t leave you. It’s shallow and gross, but you’re desperate—have _been_ desperate since the beginning.

You nod once and look up at the checkered ceiling. If he’s going to realize, then you don’t want to see the—the _what_? Betrayal? _Please_; you sincerely doubt he actually cares about you aside from the deal he made to Mr. Shroomby. Then again, you also doubt anyone would choose to care about you if it wasn’t a necessity to begin with.

...dang. And just when you were feeling great after a long, hot shower.

“Look.” Shyster interrupts your annual bout of self-loathing and you glance back at him. Mask indecipherable, read: normal, he states, “I don’t care about your business; it’s _your_ business, so what right do I have to it? Not all of us are open books; hell, _I’m_ sure not, but it shouldn’t make a difference.”

He then grumbles under his breath, slurred in that language all Shy Guys knows. Looking directly at you, he mutters, “_Stars_, it sounds so mushy every single time I say this, but whatever—”

“—we’re in this _together. Despite_ everything, okay?”

Oh wow, you’re not sure how your heart manages to handle that phrase either. Gratifying, sure, but hearing it come from stoic, mostly no-nonsense Shyster?

You burst out into a fit of laughter which shortly devolves into gasps for air; it’s the welcome sort of breathlessness that makes your ribs ache in joy rather than pain. Despite the tears beginning to prick at your eyes, you continue wheezing even after the last hyena-like peels burst from your throat.

You glance over at Shyster and his mask is clearly pulled into a look you’d describe as constipated. The thought nearly restarts your fit but you successfully quell it; your lungs can’t handle much more.

“S-s-sorry,” you begin, still gripping your achy ribs, “but thu-that’s not as mushy as what _I_ was thinking.”

Once you’ve managed to calm enough such that you aren’t inhaling every other word, you try again. “I—just...I guess what I mean is that you always know what to say, at the right time, so.” You feel a blush crawl up your face but you ignore it in favor of offering Shyster a quick grin. “Thanks; I really mean it.”

The Shy Guy stares at you for a moment before emitting a tiny sigh. “...yeah, that’s probably worse.”

Your smile widens until it feels like it’s splitting your face in half. After another moment both of you start chuckling, leaving you to bask in...whatever this feeling is.

“It’s kind of a shame,” you begin a few minutes later. Shyster tips his head toward you and you continue, mentioning, “We _just_ settled down but we’ll probably leave pretty shortly. Not nearly enough time to take it easy, in my opinion.”

Shyster makes a dismissive sound. “Saving the world is never easy work, or whatever it is _we’re_ doing. But I think I get what you’re saying; we’re pretty cushy as we are right now: hot food, warm showers, and no big dumb fish threatening us at every other turn.”

You stifle another chuckle. “Yup. Nailed it.”

“It’s always easier to do nothing,” Shyster agrees after a beat. “Still, when you can do something, might as well, right? That way you won’t ever be held down by all the ‘what-ifs.’”

“...I get it, but what if you make things _worse_?”

Shyster shoots a deadpan look over at you. “Unlike you, most of us aren’t seers so we don’t know how things are _supposed_ to play out.” Putting his arms behind his head and leaning back, he goes on to say, “I guess it’s pretty fortunate, though; not like we can have regrets if we don’t even know what the future holds in the first place. Life isn’t...I always thought—still think life’s not something you plan, it’s just something you experience.”

You hum thoughtfully. Since when did this become an existential discussion? You may enjoy a good ol’ dose of biology and its many pursuits, but you could really do without thinking about the space you’re filling up in the grand scheme of things.

“Sooo,” you drawl, “what about fate?”

With a huff Shyster looks up at the ceiling. “Always thought it was dumb; no offense.”

“None taken.”

Shyster’s eyes narrow. “You’re a _seer—literally_ the only sort of people who have any reason at all to believe in fate—y’know what? Nevermind. I’m too tired for this type of talk. Still, I guess that’s why what Mr. Spirit said annoyed me so much; like he knows something you don’t and he’s using it against you.”

You listen to him in silence, picking apart his words internally. You already have a pretty good idea about what Geno was implying but you really, _really_ don’t want to mull over it too much.

“Anyways…” You perk up and give Shyster your full attention. “Call me curious; do you dislike traveling? Is that why you wanna stay, or is it because you don’t want to interfere with things?”

“Ehhh, probably a little bit of both if I’m being honest.” Shrugging, you admit, “I don’t wanna make things worse which I think is pretty fair. As for traveling, well…I guess I don’t mind it that much. It’s actually pretty fun getting to see different places, places I’ve never been to in person before.”

“Really? You’ve never been to any of these pit stops? Not even the _Mushroom Kingdom_?” You shake your head and Shyster lets out a low whistle. “You must not get out much.”

A crude snort escapes. Glancing out at the nighttime sky and all the twinkling stars, you explain, “I think I mentioned this before, but I don’t really have a home anymore. Or at the very least I can’t go back. S’why I was called ‘Urchin’ back in the Mushroom Kingdom; lucky for me Mr. Shroomby was willing to take me in. And then you assaulted me with a slingshot—”

“_Hey_!”

“—and the rest is history,” you finish, snickering. “That green tent of yours might as well be my new home. The hectic adventure is a bonus; a pretty poor one in my opinion, but the universe _loves_ mocking me.”

“I dunno; you kinda ask for it.” After a beat where you glare over at him, Shyster pipes up, “I get what you’re saying though. I mean, I won’t deny I left my village ‘cause I was bored of routine. Traveling seemed to be something new and exciting, and luckily enough I happen to enjoy it.” He pauses to shoot you an irritated look. “And then I met you and my life has never known peace since.”

“_Wow_, and after everything I do for you.”

“What, you mean getting on everyone’s shit list or just being an annoyance in general?”

“_Adventure_, jerk.”

Shyster’s deadpan mask doesn’t change even when he scoffs. “You’re a dork.”

You can’t help but laugh again.

The rest of the night goes pretty much the same way, with you and Shyster bickering back and forth about useless topics once you’ve explained what’s supposed to happen all the way up to Marrymore. Over dinner with several other Snifits, he mentions he hopes Mario and them will end up as the hotel’s busboys and you nearly choke on your potato and carrot stew. You also lose it when the blue-clad apprentices oggle Shyster’s “pretty red” robe and he just replies it’s his “fancy clothes” to get them to drop it.

Just when you’re about to retire to bed, Shyster asks, “Say, are there any hidden chests in the tower we can get before we scram?”

You smack your head. Of _course_; he’s still a thief after all. Still, having some more frog coins won’t hurt…

*** * * * * * ***

Despite how sore your knee is, running around the lobby carrying stacks of haphazardly sorted paper isn’t nearly as bad as you thought it’d be. Then again, you _did_ wake up awfully early in an attempt to both explore the tower and find some of those hidden chests you can recall. All in all, a haul of four frog coins - worth 160 normal coins! - _is_ pretty nice.

“Are these the ones in need of signing?” the blue Snifit - Snookum? Apprentice? - asks. You nod and deposit the pages onto their desk before awaiting further instructions.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Shyster lug a bucket around, mopping the tiles until they’re positively pristine.

“Okay.” You look back down and watch the Snifit pull out a stamp pad. Sifting through the stack of papers, he hands you a clipboard. “Check all the chores you’ve finished and we’ll take it from there.”

You take the page and begin filling out the form as directed; the pictures have already been dusted, the floors are still being mopped, the Bob-ombs are all accounted for, aaand...you’ve handed out the necessary parachutes. Kinda weird, but you recall how some Bob-ombs and Snifits fall down the larger rooms using those white and blue-striped parachutes.

Handing the clipboard back, the blue Snifit sitting across the desk plucks it up. After signing it off he replaces it with another folder. “I need you to deliver this to one of Booster’s Snifits; they should be hanging out near the top floors—oh, good morning, Booster, sir!”

You flinch and turn around only to see the stocky man in charge of the whole operation.

He doesn’t even respond, too busy peeking out the front door—wait, doesn’t he do that when Bowser are them are outside? Oh man, you need an excuse to leave and _fast_.

“Uhhh, roger!” You don’t even wait for an affirmative, instead snapping up the folder.

It’s then Booster turns around and plants both meaty fists on his hips. Without warning he shouts, “Alright! Looks like we’ve got company! _Unwelcome company_, that is! I’m gonna be busy entertaining the princess from the sky, so make ‘em feel like the guests they _aren’t_!”

After a hearty laugh and a chorus of Snifits replying “Yes, sir!” he rushes to a wall and—opens up a secret door. Huh. Well, the big guy’s gotta sneak around somehow.

No sooner than that door shutting back into the innocuous wooden walls does the front door bursts off its hinges.

In the resulting din of awkward silence, you exchange a brief look of horror with Shyster who returns with his own wide eyes. Among the various blue Snifits scampering about the lobby, you all stare at the pile of people currently groaning on top of the broken door. Bowser makes up the majority of the mountain, pinning both Mario and Geno underneath his girth while Mallow peeks in from outside.

Once the small prince notices you standing there like a deer caught in the headlights, he perks up immediately. “Oh, hi seer! Glad you’re okay after that crash!”

Upon hearing your unanimous title, a certain doll whips his head up so fast to shoot you a dirty look. Before he can get a word in edgewise you immediately turn to the Snifit manning the front desk. “I-I’ll get these delivered as soon as possible!”

Not even waiting to see if Shyster has joined you, you skitter to the stairs and ascend them like your life depends on it. Which, you know, might as well if the murder in Geno’s red eyes says anything.

“Yeesh!” Welp, now you know Shyster’s opted to follow you. “What’s his problem anyway?”

“You shouldn’t talk, Mr. ‘I’ll take out your other eye too.’”

“I was doing the both of us a favor and you know it!”

“Where do you think you’re going?!” That’s a very pissed-off star spirit down below, chanting up at you. You pause for a moment on the walkway, watching as the nearby Snifits look amongst themselves before hesitantly approaching the quartet of heroes. Noticing this, Geno unsheathes his finger guns and shouts, “This isn’t over!”

“Hey, that’s _my_ line!” Bowser growls besides him, readying his own claws and causing some of the Snifits to pause.

“Yeah, what he said!” you crow down at the spirit before sticking your tongue out for added insult. After having a good laugh out of his stupefied expression teetering on the edge of unadulterated fury, you’re off again, stumbling up the staircases and navigating your way through the compact halls of the tower. Still, you hope they don’t thrash those poor Snifits _too_ badly...

“There you go again,” Shyster hisses besides you, “egging him on again! Is it your goal to frustrate every single person you come across or _what_?!”

“_Pssh_, please,” you retort, nearly tripping on another staircase. “_Gah_—! It’s not he’s gonna murder me in cold blood or anything; at least I hope not. He doesn’t seem like that sorta guy.”

Huffing and puffing - the Shy Guy _does_ manage to match your longer strides with his stubby legs - he grits out, “_That_ sounds reassuring. How can you _not_ know?! You’re supposed to be a _seer_ for star’s sake!”

Turning around another bend and looking for the next ascending stairwell, you click your tongue in annoyance; why is this place such a maze? Shrugging and nearly losing hold of the folder, you say, “Honestly? I always thought he was this cool, level-headed dude who hardly emoted. Stoic, y’know? Turns out he’s pretty pissy—”

Shyster slaps his hands over his mask. “It’s difficult _not_ to be with how you act sometimes. Take it from _me_.”

“...am I really that annoying?”

The Shy Guy levels an unimpressed look at you. “You do most things out of spite; you tell me.”

“Huh.” Momentarily pausing to catch your breath, you look up and down the corridor. Nothing jumps out as being particularly noteworthy, so you figure you’ll just keep running around and hoping for the best. If you’re lucky, you might miss Mario’s group and you can sneak out. “Spite is a perfectly valid way to exist, thank you very much. Also it’s fun.”

“You’ve got a twisted sense of amusement, then.”

Waving him off as best you can while holding the folder to your chest, you scoff but leave it at that. Knowing that the various blue Snifits bumbling around the lower floors have bought you time, you slow down into an easy pace. Even sorta lost, you _do_ manage to find your way back to the dorm-like area where you slept last night. You and Shyster agree to make a quick stop and reequip - _pfft_ \- your personal bags; time to hit the road again, it seems.

With the familiar weight of your bag against your hip you set out into the tower again.

A few minutes later it’s official: you have _no_ idea where you’re going. Then again, you’ve only been at Booster Tower for barely a day and had to rely on other Snifits to guide you around the place, so. The fact you’ve made it up about halfway - judging by the windows you can peek out of - is a miracle.

“_Why_ does everything look the _same_?”

“Why not call the architect and find out?”

You wrinkle your nose down at Shyster who crosses his arms in response. “Ha ha, very funny. Do I look like a joke to you?”

“I don’t know about the little guy, but you sure look like one to me!”

You and Shyster screech to a halt and immediately look around for the owner of that humored voice. It thankfully doesn’t take long for you to see the flashy yellow and red polka-dotted attire belonging to one particular clown, casually leaning against a nearby beam. He says nothing but grins at you, the shrill sounds of him sharpening a knife filling the otherwise silent hallway.

Well, this doesn’t bode well. You don’t like how the clown stops his sharpening to hold it up and admire it’s glint in the light.

“...why’re you standing there looking like a creep?” Oh wow, did you really just say that out loud?

The sharp intake of breath below you is likely Shyster, but it’s soon lost to the bellowing laughter of Knife Guy. “Goodness me!” he exclaims, grin wide and eyes on you, “aren’t you a little spitfire?”

You face does something weird and mildly unpleasant. It’s not like he’s wrong per se; he _is_ a good bit taller than you. Then again, not a big accomplishment considering you’re only a couple inches taller than the red plumber. Yeah, you’re short; so what?

“But—!” Knife Guy throws his arms out and you notice the sharp metal concealed neatly inside his gloves. “As much as you amuse me, I’m here for business reasons; that business being my curiosity. So…”

Leaning forward, his freakishly long arms reach forward until you can see your blurry reflection on his blade. “Are _you_ the small seer everyone seems to be talking about?”

Too focused on the knife hovering mere inches from you, you glare at the clown. Despite the icy fear clogging your vessels, you throw your arms up and bark, “What _is it_ with everyone shoving _sharp metal into my face_?!”

Briefly, his face shifts into something quizzical and his knife lowers but you’re on a roll. While your arms are busy conveying your frustration, you seethe, “Like, I get you’re _Knife_ Guy but this is _ridiculous_! Just—stop it! Get that outta my face!” It’s _barely_ been 24 hours since the last time someone smacked your cheek with a sharp pointy object, thank you very much.

Waving your hands like a lunatic is apparently enough to get Knife Guy to back off, even if momentarily. Still, he looks you over and you struggle not to wilt beneath his lingering stare.

“My, my, _my_,” the clown intones cheerily. “Seems there is more to you than meets the eye; which isn’t much, I’m afraid.” Aaand now he’s making fun of you; what a _douchebag_. “But I suppose this answers my first question, and quite clearly too! You see, we’ve yet to properly meet and you _still_ know my name. Hmm, curious indeed!”

Great, so aside from pirates you’ve managed to enrapture a knife-wielding nutcase into your shenanigans. _Fantastic_.

“...is there any specific reason you’re bothering us, or what?” Shyster snaps besides you.

Knife Guy tilts his head at the Shy Guy who refuses to budge an inch. Then the clown says, “It seems the surprises today never stop! Not one but _two_ spitfires! Still, most recruits - be they new or seasoned - know not to talk back to me.”

But then he snaps his fingers, impressive considered the knife still clutched in his palm. “Then again, I don’t believe I’ve seen a tiny human nor a meager Shy Guy wandering about these checkered halls before. If I had to guess, you were the ones escaping from those two sea critters? Those two fish who both my brother and I had to ward off from the tower?”

You grimace and clutch onto the leash of your bag. What it is with you and running into devious guys who know more than they have any right to? It’s hard enough dealing with Shyster alone!

Too fed up to think of the potential consequences - domino effect be damned! - you shrug. “Yeah, yeah, that was us. Happy now? We’ll be leaving shortly if that’s what you want.”

“And yet you climb the tower,” Knife Guy states blithely. “I find this contrast quite strange. Or must I remind you the only exit and entrance lies toppled on the lobby floor?”

“Oh; right.” You hesitate briefly before plucking a plain folder from your bag, which Knife Guy eyes with interest. “I’m supposed to deliver this to one of Booster’s Snifits. I was told they’re hanging out near the top, so...yeah.”

Knife Guy looks absolutely stricken before he burst into a boisterous fit of giggles.

It takes the better part of a minute for him to calm down enough to retort, “What a curious little thing you are, _hee hee_! If you’re going to leave then why bother keeping up the act?”

“Y’know, he raises a good point,” Shyster mutters thoughtfully, judging you.

For a hot minute you stand there feeling like a schmuck. You...you didn’t really think about that. Trying to save what scraps of your dignity remain - which is probably none, but one can dream - you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. “I-I mean, it’s the least I can do. We—the Snifits let us in and gave us a safe place to stay last night, and dinner! They gave us dinner too, and...uh, y’know. I maybe also wanna thank Snifit 3 for being so nice.”

If you’re blushing due to embarrassment, the clown says nothing of it.

“Oh-ho, have a conscious, do we?” Knife Guy hums for a bit before his painted eyes shift between you and Shyster. “Well, don’t let me stop your adorable endeavors; I need some entertainment too. Besides, this is also the perfect opportunity to return that key—”

“Already did that,” Shyster affirms gruffly. “When we got here last night. Not like we’ll be back anytime soon either.”

Knife Guy sways back and forth to some unseen rhythm, leaning toward you. “—isn’t that nice. Well, my part is just about finished up. Still, the scenes go on and the final act approaches! More specifically for _you_, my charming little spitfire; _I_ must get ready for the grand finale.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Shyster inputs harshly.

“I’m sure your cute seer can tell you all about it,” Knife Guy replies, pocketing his knives and glancing behind you. “After all, word travels fast; faster within these walls. I’ve heard one of the intruders seems to have it out for you and I’m all for some entertainment!”

Shyster stiffens alongside you. If you listen hard enough, you can hear a few voices filtering about the hallway. Those voices sound eerily familiar.

The Shy Guy points at the clown and seethes, “You—! You were stalling?!”

“It seems my job here is done,” Knife Guy states, bowing once and winking at you. “Alas, my role calls! Farewell, my little and littler spitfires!”

With that you and Shyster watch in extreme bafflement as the clown extends his upper half to reveal a spring. In a rather impressive feat of agility and skill, Knife Guy shoots around the nearby awnings and steeples in a blur of yellow. After a few seconds the dude’s gone like he didn’t just threaten you with a knife not five minutes earlier.

“What was that guy’s problem?” Shyster huffs, crossing his arms. “_Tch_, not like I should expect anything else; most Harlequins are creeps.”

“...at least I didn’t get stabbed, so I’ll count that as a victory.”

“Your standards are pretty low, aren’t they?”

“Like the dirt, yeah.”

After leveling a particularly unimpressed look toward you, those voices you heard earlier escalate until you can nearly understand the words being spoken. Although you haven’t managed to run into Bowser during your travels - which is pretty weird, not gonna lie; didn’t he have a small army with him in the beginning? - his gravelly voice can’t be mistaken.

It’s then you realize you’re still standing in the middle of the hallway like a dumbass.

Shooting a tortured grimace at Shyster, you turn away from the sound of approaching footsteps. Your muscles tighten as you prepare to rush into the nearby room, despite the voices growing louder and louder—

“—_hey_! Don’t you _dare_ run away!”

You immediately trip when you attempt to do so. Grumbling from the floor, Shyster comes up besides you and swiftly helps you back up to your feet. Despite the pain pounding in your knee like a second heartbeat, you limp forward as fast as you can but it doesn’t take long for your stalkers to catch up.

“Would you just _wait_ for a minute?” Geno gripes further down the hall, frustration painted clearly across his wooden face.

Exasperated, you slap your hands over your eyes. Dragging them down your face, you groan which shortly devolves into a frustrated yell of sorts. Disregarding how spooked both Shyster and the spirit seems, you whip around and shoot a pleading look at the doll.

“_Please_, no. I—I _literally_ just got manhandled; n-not even five minutes ago!” you exclaim, extending your fingers for emphasis. “Just—no. I don’t even wanna bother with you right now.”

Geno’s withered glare slowly but surely morphs into one of resignation. Despite finding it humorous how Mario and Bowser exchange clueless glances and a shrug, you ignore them in favor of Mallow’s timid approach.

“Uh, are you okay…?” the prince kindly asks.

Clapping your hands and holding them against your lips, you furrow your brow down at him but say nothing. You mean, what’re you gonna say; _I’m pretty sure a monster clown both flirted and threatened me with a knife at the same time_? Yeah, no, that’s not gonna fly.

What you end up settling for is “I’m tired of almost getting stabbed.”

After a beat Geno makes to pinch the bridge of his nose. He exhales a long, steady breath before glowering at you from beneath his cap. “What are you even doing here?”

Resigning yourself to your fate - because you’d rather be stabbed than shot, frankly - you shrug. “Running from pirates, mostly.”

“...pirates,” Geno deadpans.

At your confirming nod, he shakes his head and opts to rub his temples instead, worn boot tapping all the while. “Let me get this straight,” the spirit begins, clearly struggling to stem his frustration, “when you went into the mines yesterday after you ‘nearly got stabbed’—”

“Pirates,” you confirm again.

Geno’s withered stare increases tenfold. “...and I’m going to guess you’re here for the same reason; that reason being _pirates_,” the spirit hisses like he can’t believe what he’s saying.

You glance down at Shyster who looks like he wants to be literally anywhere else. Turning back to the irate doll, you shrug for what feels like the billionth time today. “Trust me when I say I don’t like this any more than you do.”

The _whap_ noises echoing about the hall is the sound of both Shyster and Geno facepalming.

“How—are you so desperate to _run away_ that you’d rather be accosted by _pirates_?!” Geno thrusts his arms out and you subconsciously flinch back. “I’ve told you so many times already I’m probably wasting my time, but _I can help you_; _we_ can help you.”

“Er,” Bowser crosses his arms and frowns down at Geno’s back. “Look here starboy, don’t go sayin’ things that ain’t true—”

“I don’t need your help.”

Geno whirls back to you after glaring over his shoulder at the Koopa. You can also feel Shyster’s stare boring into your head, but you keep staring at the doll’s piercing red gaze. Clenching your fists against your sides, you repeat, “I don’t need - or _want_ \- your help...a-and you don’t need mine. Trust me; I—you _don’t need me_.”

The spirit visibly falters before collecting himself again, eyes steely. He chooses his words carefully when he says, “That may be true, but the sooner I acquire the Star Pieces the sooner _everything_ can end.”

Something cold and dark grips at your heart and you glance at Shyster—no. _No_.

Curling in on yourself, your wide eyes find the spirit’s red ones. For a moment he has the gall to appear confused before realization settles on him. When it does it seems to bury him until he pins his hands to his sides, fists clenched not unlike your own. Yet he still wears his resolve like a second skin in his unwillingness to appear deterred.

“Look,” he states, tone final. You do so albeit meekly and he goes on, saying, “I can help you if you’ll allow me. And even if you don’t want my aid, you already know I could use yours. Are you really so stubborn that you’d rather deal with pirates than help me gather the Star Pieces?”

Suddenly you find yourself defending the very same sharks who threatened to take you away. “They—they’re not nearly as bad as we’re probably making them out to be; you’ll find this out yourself eventually. Just...leave me alone.”

Really, you weren’t lying when you told him multiple times you want no part of this video game plot. Your record here is already pretty _ow_.

Aaand so it would appear that was the final straw.

Geno’s face melts into one of righteous fury and he pins you beneath his cold stare. When he takes a single step forward you take one back, hoping your fear isn’t so obvious.

“You—” the doll accuses through wooden teeth. “You’re defending them now?! The same pirates who ‘nearly stabbed you’? If you think I’m going to sit back and let them try and cut down Star Road’s seer—”

“Ah-_actually_! They, uh, want to kidnap me—oh wait, ‘abduct’ because I’m technically an adult. Right; anyways—”

Holy _shit_; if looks could kill you’d be dead a thousand times over because of Geno. He stalks another step forward and you stumble a few backwards. Shooting a quick, most likely terrified glance down at Shyster, he returns it and makes for the slingshot on his belt. Oh no, things are going _way_ bad _way too_ fast.

Voice low but still swathed in unhidden fury, Geno asks, “_What_ are you so afraid of that you’d rather risk _abduction_ than _safety_?”

“I-I don’t _know_, okay?!” _Liar_! your thoughts bellow. _You’re nothing but a liar_!

Gesturing madly you readily admit, “I’m just a _coward_; I’m terrified of—” _Of the things you know that I don’t_. “—of basically _everything_! I don’t want t-to run around looking for trouble like you!”

“Then what is it you want?” The spirit halts but you don’t think you _can_ move under the harsh glare he’s pinning you with anyway. “Because as far as I can tell, you’re _already_ willing to help, albeit in unorthodox ways. Why else do you offer advice when it’s unnecessary? Why do you still try regardless of your nature or your friend?”

Your eyes find Shyster’s. You still can’t tell what he’s feeling if his mask remains unmoving.

“I—” _don’t know_ wants to tumble out, but you swallow the words before they can. “I…”

Geno’s eyes soften almost indecipherably. He sighs, long and rueful. “...Do I terrify you that much?”

_Yes_. “N-no!” you blurt out but the word sounds weak to your own ears.

Ashamed and rightfully burning in the face, you’re unable to make your vision rise again for fear of what you’ll find. It’s already hard enough embarrassing yourself in front of Mr. Video Game himself. But having an audience composed of the kind prince of Nimbus Land and the King of Koopas? Maybe you _should_ have gotten stabbed; it’d probably be easier to deal with than _this_ mortification.

The air feels both heavy and wispy all at once, weighing down on your shoulders and unable to take root inside your lungs. Despite this you still struggle for breath, no matter how futile the action seems.

A gentle pressure presents itself against your leg and—oh. Shyster.

His words are garbled in the confusion which has settled in your mind, but you draw enough strength to shoot a grin down. The motion is familiar but far from the comfort instilled by the Shy Guy’s hand patting your thigh.

Deciding to face the music, you look back at Geno.

The spirit’s crossing his arms again, but his face seems to be more apologetic than anything. A moment passes before he observes in a startling gentle tone, “If we continue running into each other we might as well keep together. There’s safety in numbers, after all.”

Unable to deal with the abrupt change in attitude, you say the first thing that comes to mind. Unfortunately, it’s a subdued but still snide, “Stop wasting your time on me.”

Then, a beat later; “Don’t you have a princess to rescue or something?”

So it turns out Mario can be pretty pissy if his buttons are pushed. Princess Toadstool happens to be one of those.

“_What were you thinking_?!” Shyster hollers at you despite huffing and puffing. Then again, you’re in the same boat because having an angry plumber chasing you down isn’t how you envisioned _that_ particular conversation ending.

You hear both Mallow and, surprisingly enough, Geno trying to calm Mario down or berating him for nearly frying you. Bowser’s roaring laughter in the background just adds to your despair.

“Didn’t you know the princess was here the entire time?!” You nod a few times to affirm so and Shyster tries his damndest to claw his mask off. “_Stars_, how much of an idiot do you have to be to hide the lost princess’s whereabouts from her personal hero?! Hasn’t he been looking for her for _weeks_?”

Thankfully, your abrupt romp through the tower proved easier than theirs; all the Bob-ombs and blue Snifits still think you and Shyster are one of them. Even those blue flamey guys and jester-lookin’ fellows don’t glance as you run by them.

A fireball whizzes past you and you can still feel the residual heat on your ass.

“_Stop bullying me_!” you yell, but your only reply is another fireball.

Once you turn around the corner, you screech to an abrupt halt. Hauling Shyster up, you throw yourself into a what looks like a nearby storage closet before hastily but quietly closing the door. Not even a minute later the heroes rush past, still rioting their way upstairs. Then again, you did inform them Princess Toadstool is on the topmost floor, so. You tried.

You wait for several minutes before stumbling out of the tiny space.

“Hey.” You look down at Shyster who’s messing with a couple dusty packages—wait a sec. Aren’t those—?

Despite there being no warning, you catch the bag as Shyster informs you, “Might wanna put it on; better safe than sorry. Besides, doesn’t look like anyone else is using it.”

You fumble and require his help but the parachute backpack is fastened and ready to go. “Please don’t tell me we’ll have to use this.”

“Like I said, better safe than sorry; most of the others seem to have ‘em. Now let’s give that damn folder to those Snifits and be done with it.”

Too tired to argue you simply shrug and continue up the nearby stairs. Toeing around the scorch marks indicative of miniature explosions, you and Shyster finally stumble upon the topmost segment of Booster Tower, if the lack of any other stairwells says anything.

Peeking through the single door shows Booster and his three Snifits speaking with the heroes. Trying to be subtle about it, you keep watching until Booster leaves out the other door, his Snifits following him—why are all of them wearing parachutes too? Oh _no_—

You don’t even wait for the main party to exit the room before bursting in yourself, shouting after the Snifits, “_W-wait_! I have some papers for you—!”

Thankfully, the last of them turns around and—thank goodness it’s Snifit 3. They halt and look back at Booster and the other two, then at you holding out the folder, then back again. They stutter out an apology, “I-I’m sorry, but Booster’s going to marry the princess from the sky a-and I have to help! Bye-bye…!”

“_What_?” Bowser doesn’t wait to stomp out the other door and soon everyone else follows, though Mallow and Geno shoot you completely different looks of bemusement.

You try to hurry after the Snifit but you catch on something. Tugging harshly, you manage to free yourself and with a huff make to follow them outside—

The folder and its innards scatter across the room; good god, you were _not_ expecting both Knife Guy and Grate Guy to suddenly impact the outside deck.

“Oi, hold on, will you?” Shyster berates behind you but you can barely hear him over the wind roaring on the deck.

Too stupefied with the appearance of the clown brothers, you stand just outside the door watching as they prepare to fight the heroes. Faintly, you can make out the visages of Booster and the princess strapped to his back, gliding down with a parachute. The three Snifits seem to be following his example. Huh.

“Oh, what a surprise this is! If is isn’t my little and littler spitfires? Come to watch the show?”

You glance up to see Knife Guy grinning at you, somehow idly juggling his knives in the hollowing wind. Grate Guy nudges him before motioning to the four heroes, who finally register the immediate threat.

“Uhhh, no. Not really,” you admit, grasping onto the doorframe from the safety of the room. “Just delivered the—_papers_!”

Cue a couple pages scattering outside because of the windiness, fluttering in front of your face. You step onto the balcony in an attempt to grab them just as Shyster bellows “_No_!” behind you.

So, a couple things to note here: the first is that something you caught on and tugged free? Apparently it was the pulley system which released the entire parachute behind you. The second is, of course, the wind. An empty parachute plus wind equals a not-so-empty parachute.

“What the fu—_aaaAAAHHH_!”

That’s the sound of you screaming because your parachute decided to nearly fling you off the tower.

Clawing at the wooden railing like your life depends on it - which it _might as well_ at this point - you watch Shyster hurry to your side. Hopping onto the precarious railing, he tries his hardest to ensure your hold but he doesn’t have fingers to grasp onto yours.

Belatedly, your likely frenzied gaze drifts over to the group who return it with some of their own; Geno in particular looks besides himself while Mallow is openly gaping. Mario and Bowser just look kinda confused. Then your eyes lock onto the two clown brothers, who’ve stopped readying for combat to instead watch you; Grate Guy with mild curiosity and Knife Guy with a thumbs-up.

And that’s when your fingers give.

You continue screeching as the wind immediately yanks you away from the railing and into the open air. It’s then when you notice Shyster still reaching out but you know he can’t possibly—wait, why is he crouching?

Like an absolute madman, he takes a huge leap of faith and jumps clean off the railing.

Ignoring how both Knife Guy and Geno rush to look over the railing, your eyes don’t leave Shyster for a second. You fling your arms out and he thankfully lands directly on your chest. Sure he knocks the air right out of you but he’s not wearing a parachute, so it’s definitely worth it.

Throwing your arms around his small frame and backpack as best you can, you dig your fingers into him for any sort of purchase when you begin tumbling through the air. You don’t have a clue which direction is up, but the cacophony of screaming wind and blurred colors flashing in your eyes seems to agree you aren’t gliding through the air anymore.

“Try and right yourself—_spread your legs_!” Shyster screams over the roaring wind.

You follow his instructions as best you can and it thankfully works out; a few seconds later you’re upright and gliding through the air, wind carrying you eastward. Gasping because _holy shit_, you struggle to catch your breath and allow your curiosity to guide you to look back at Booster Tower.

You can still see the balcony, albeit faintly. Neither Geno or Knife Guy is hanging over the edge clutching their pearls, but that just means they’re probably fighting and everything is as it should be.

Shyster shifts before breathing, “_Wow_.”

Looking down - and definitely ignoring the hundreds of meters you are above the ground - you see his head swiveling around, clearly taking in all your surroundings. You mimic him despite the fear clogging your vessels. Well, he’s certainly not wrong; the horizon is beautiful, filled with landmarks you’ve traveled through but somehow appear completely different from the sky. If anything, it’s like you’re looking at the in-game world map. The thought calms you, albeit minutely; you and heights aren’t really on talking terms.

“Y’know what?” You tilt your head down but Shyster’s still scanning the view. “This ain’t so bad.”

“Mmh,” you agree, refusing to ease your grip on the Shy Guy. “You’re _crazy_, you know that?”

“I learn from the best.”

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, a genuine laugh bubbles up and fills the empty air around the both of you. Despite how hard your poor heart is beating behind your ribs, you’re actually having _fun_. What a wild day.

It’s only when you’re descending on a scarce cropping of trees when you bring up the inevitable. “Uhhh, you know I have no idea how to land this thing, right?”

“Knowing your luck, we’ll probably be fine if a little beat up.”

“...is that an insult or a compliment?”

“Whichever you want it to be.”

You roll your eyes, even if the motion won’t be seen. “Don’t make me drop you.”

Shyster lets loose a scoff before wriggling in your grip; instinctively you tighten your hold. The Shy Guy as the audacity to snicker before wryly commenting, “Yeah, thought so.” Then he looks around before saying, “I know we don’t have control of this thing, but it looks like we’ll be landing in those trees. I suggest you brace for impact.”

Heart still hammering away, you nod and watch as the pines grow ever closer. You barely have any time to do anything else but curl protectively around Shyster when you slam into rows of branches. The sharp bark gouges multiple cuts out of your bare arms and legs, but you remain steadfast and tighten in on yourself, silently hoping you won’t break a limb.

Your parachute chooses that precise moment to get stuck on something. Still clasped to it, your entire body is harshly pulled back. With a gagging choke, you’re left hanging in the trees. Well, at least you stopped. Safe but not completely out of the woods yet - _ha ha_, pun - you let go of Shyster to try and untangle yourself from the lines with minimal success.

“Hold on,” Shyster groans before pulling away from you and clamoring onto nearby branches. Hovering near you, he reaches out and messes with the multiple loops and buckles of the parachute’s harness. While his hands are busy detangling you, he inquires, “Are you any good at climbing trees?”

You hesitate. “I’ve never—I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Then this is as good a time as any to learn,” he huffs. “I’m gonna release you on three. One...two—”

You barely have any time to retort when the last buckle comes undone. Lashing out to find any sort of stability at all, your fingers instead find the plush body of Shyster who lets out a shrill squawk.

And that’s how the two of you tumble out of the trees; clinging to each other and screeching, at least in your case. Like with the parachute, you don’t really know which way is up but you know enough that landing is gonna hurt—

_SNAP_!

“—_oof_!”

Blinking, you groan because your butt pretty much took the brunt of that fall; it may be cushy but not _that_ cushy. It’s then when you remember that hey, maybe you should check all you extremities because that sound was not at all pleasant. A quick wiggle of your fingers and toes proves you didn’t break anything, so what was that…?

“_Ugh_, get off me!” Ah, right.

Separating yourself from the Shy Guy, you desperately hope he didn’t break anything. But he stands up and dusts himself off like nothing so you assume he isn’t hurt. Then you watch him grumble under his breath, watery words leaving his mask in obvious frustration. Looking closer reveals the reason: his wooden slingshot is broken. So _that’s_ what snapped.

“Dammit!” Shyster curses, clutching the splintered wood. Guilt forces you to stutter out a paltry apology, but he just shakes his head and sighs. “It’s fine,” he assures after a beat, “I just have to carve another one—”

“Well lookee here, matey! Seems we’ve struck the jackpot, _yar har harr_!”

“About time; me gills have ‘bout had it with th’ land!”

Holy _fuck_, is your luck _really_ this bad? You have enough time to exchange an ugly grimace with Shyster’s narrowed eyes before the two sharks are upon you, speartips forbidding you from making any sort of move in retaliation. Then again, not like you could’ve since you knee is pretty much caput from running up stairs all day. Oh, and Shyster’s only weapon is in pieces.

Nothing to do but hope you don’t get stabbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another late update; still sick. But thank goodness for pre-written chapters!
> 
> Here we have what is probably one of my favorite chapters just because I _love_ imprinting attitudes onto characters who don't really have much to them. Knife Guy was such fun to write! 
> 
> Also changed the character relationships 'cause I think reader and Geno have interacted enough for it. If you think I'm wrong then I'll change it back.
> 
> With that, hope you enjoy!


	7. Hook, Line, Sinker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ocean and its inhabitants can be unforgiving. Luckily for reader, Johnny doesn't seem _too_ bad. Yet.

“Yo; so, uh...where’re we going?”

You try not to writhe too much because the rope’s already cutting into your arms, but it’s still pretty uncomfortable. At least the bandanas had the decency to keep your legs untied because they figured you’d be walking alongside them; heck, even Shyster’s stubby arms are strapped to his sides.

For what’s probably the hundredth time since he tied you up, blue bandana sighs. “You’ll find out in jus’ a bit, now quit yer yabberin’.”

“But you dragged me and Shyster through the Pipe Vault—”

“Thanks fer th’ frog coin, by th’ way!” red bandana chirps behind you and you shoot a hesitant grin back at him. Honestly, you’re a bit surprised the main gang missed the hidden chest but hey! It’s free coinage.

“—anyways,” you blab while trying to ignore the itchiness of the ropes, “in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got cuts up the wazoo, a-and I didn’t really get the chance to wrap ‘em up…Speaking of which, you should probably throw these out when you’re done because I think I bled all over them—”

Blue bandana sighs again. “What’s yer bloody point?”

You stifle a snicker; unintentional pun, _ha ha_. “Since we _did_ kinda just romp through sorta-but-not-really sewers, is there a possibility I have a plague or something?”

The two sharks exchange a look while Shyster throws a dirty one your way. You shrug in response and retort, “Who knows, maybe sepsis is gonna set in within a few hours and then no one here will be happy. Me _especially_.”

“Why are you like this?” Shyster remarks with a shake of his head. You don’t even bother hiding the snort.

The blue bandana mimics your earlier action and just shrugs. “If there was some sort o’ sickness, it would’ve taken me already; got these gills on me, don’ I? Already hard enough bein’ away from water fer so long.”

You purse your lips and just nod in assent; he does make a pretty good point. After all, what are the gills of fish but open respiratory systems? The fact such delicate and porous tissue is exposed to the elements is...hmm, now you’re wondering why these sharks _haven’t_ gotten sick with all the airborne viruses floating about. Knowing this world’s track record: _magic_.

“He’s got a point, ya know,” red bandana comments, pushing you along the shoreline of Yo’ster Isle. Although you ended up here after tromping through the Pipe Vault, you didn’t really have the opportunity to look around because you are technically hostages.

Slowly but surely, a small boat comes into view and red continues on to say, “Th’ only sickness ye’ll be comin’ down wit’ soon enough is seasickness! _Har har_…!”

Blue bandana smirks at that before motioning you and Shyster forward, and soon enough the four of your are disembarking on a rickety old boat. You may love the ocean and all its splendor, but the fact remains you aren’t...the best of swimmers. And beyond that your hands _are_ kinda tied up, so. You really, _really_ hope the boat doesn’t capsize or anything; that would suck big time.

Seeming to notice your general discomfort, Shyster sidles up to you. Ignoring the fact the two sharks rowing are close enough to overhear, he whispers conspiratorially, “Just curious, but if I were to strangle these fish would I cover their gills or go about it the old fashioned way?”

This nets a sporadic, almost painful burst of laughter out of you. Although Shyster doesn’t say anything more, he seems pretty pleased with himself if his relaxed posture is anything to go by.

Another set of chortles joins yours and you pause enough to glance over at the blue bandana. Heaving the wooden oars through the water, his laughs peeter out until he glances back at you. With a yellow eye fixated on the Shy Guy the shark remarks, “An’ here I was thinking most of your kind was these timid whelps! Ay, good on ye for provin’ me wrong, _har har_!”

Shyster grumbles under his breath before snapping, “Keep it up and you’ll be blind soon enough, _patches_.”

Blue just laughs again, boisterous and unfettered. You shoot a smile down at Shyster who just settles deeper into his bindings; you figure he’d probably be crossing his arms if he was able to.

And that’s pretty much how the rest of the boat ride passes: in relative quiet, with nothing but screeching gulls and the waves slapping against the boat to fill the silence. It’s a welcome surprise to learn you do not, in fact, suffer from seasickness which red bandana notes with some malcontent. _Ha_! He even watches Shyster for any telltale signs of nausea but the Shy Guy is nothing if not hardy. Double _ha_!

Maybe being tightly bound provided enough incentive for you to complain about being unable to swim given an unfortunate capsize, but both sharks just laughed and told you not to worry. Well, with mocking of course; “scared scaleless are we?” to “I’m a mammal but okay.” Beyond that, nothing really happens.

With the sun beginning to descend until the sky is ablaze with brilliant oranges and reds, you spot land. Kind of.

Straightening up, you ask, “Is that the coast?”

Shyster leans forward too and blue replies, “Aye, there be th’ mainland. But we ain’t headin’ there.” Blue then chooses the opportunity to turn back and personally address you. With a wicked grin he states, “I doubt ye don’t know where we’re setting our anchors down.”

You grunt. “Touche.”

You and Shyster watch the sun set over the horizon until it disappears behind a craggy rock formation bordering the shore. Although you’re sure what you’re seeing is actually the cavern system which eventually leads up to the entrance of the Sunken Ship, it’s a lot bigger than you expect. Then again, everything in this world seems to be a lot bigger than it is in-game, but that’s besides the point; the point _being_ you can’t see the Sunken Ship. Like, at all.

“I don’t like how confused you look,” Shyster intones.

You shoot him a quick glance and shrug. Ignoring the red bandana leaning forward, you simply state, “I can’t see the Sunken Ship is all; I thought it’d be out in the open. Y’know, with the broken mast hovering above the water?”

Red snickers for a moment, calling both your and Shyster’s attention. “Y’think we be out in th’ open like a bunch o’ fish in a barrel? Not likely, ‘specially wit’ that overgrown squin hangin’ ‘round; likes it dark n’ dank.”

“‘Overgrown squid?’” Shyster repeats, looking down at your bags piled up across from you. You follow his gaze and—right. The broken fragments of his slingshot are still sticking out of one of his pack’s pockets. No weapon means no defense against foes. The heavy sigh the Shy Guy emits seems to cement that notion.

“King Calamari, right?”

Blue doesn’t turn around but acknowledges you with a curt nod. “Aye, th’ beast that brought us down in th’ first place. The Capt’n keeps it in line, but it’s a real piece o’ work. Lives below our ship in th’ cove just over yonder.”

You hum. “Gotcha.”

Despite the waning sunlight, the cove isn’t nearly as dark as you thought it’d be. Instead, amber light seeps through the cracks and holes perforating the ceiling, causing the otherwise dull wood of the Sunken Ship to stand out amongst the craggy rocks caging it in. If anything, the scene is strangely reminiscent of the shipwreck present in _Super Mario World_, what with the circle of boulders surrounding it. Hopefully this one isn’t an entrance to the underworld.

The four of you dock on a nearby formation of boulders set neatly adjacent to the ship itself. Much like in-game, at least regarding the world map, the massive ship rests in halves split down the center. Water comes up about halfway, likely filling the interior to form the make-shift dungeon that it is in the game. Idly, you wonder if you’ll get a chance to explore it; surely the infamous 3D maze can’t be _that_ hard in real life?

With little decorum, both sharks anchor the small boat nearby and guide you and Shyster off. Well, at least they’re being nice about it and not using their spears to prod you like cattle.

The two share a quick look before shoving the two of you forward on a small path leading toward the nearest side of the shipwreck. You nearly slip on the moist rocks, resulting in red quickly prying you up and back onto the path because _apparently_, it’s on a precariously steep cliff. Peeking over the edge again, you spot numerous stalagmites sticking out of the dark water below and _wow_, that would’ve been _infinitely_ more painful than—

“We _jus_’ captured you and then ye nearly walk off th’ way!” Blue bandana shoves his snout in your face and you cringe away; _ergh_, fish breath. “Be more careful, will ye? The Capt’n’s waiting on you two.”

You shrug yet again and honestly tell him, “Look, I can try but no promises; I’m pretty accident-prone.”

“I can attest to _that_,” Shyster grumbles in front of you. With a look of scorn he glances up at the sharks and states, “The only reason you managed to catch us is because _clumsy_ here fell off Booster Tower—”

“With a parachute.”

“—and the only reason we _survived_ is _because_ of their parachute.”

“Actually, my parachute is the reason I fell off in the first place,” you argue and Shyster switches his glare to you. Unperturbed because it’s basically his only other expression, you continue, “I mean, how was I supposed to know the thing was already out and about? Besides, it doesn’t explain how Booster and his Snifits went the other way of the wind.”

Shyster waits a moment before seething, “They probably knew what they were doing, and beyond that I _did_ tell you to wait. And what do you do? _Ignore me_.”

You wince. “Okay, yeah, it was pretty much my fault in the end. But _you’re_ the madman who jumped off _without a parachute_!”

“_Someone_ has to look out for your dumb ass!”

“Rude.”

The two pirates exchange wordless looks before glancing back at you and Shyster. After another moment blue clears his throat and announces, “Safe to say we made th’ right choice is keeping you two tied up.”

“Aye,” red chirps, “agreed, matey.”

A disgruntled groan is pried from Shyster while an amused snort escapes your mouth. But then you recall how you’re going to meet _the_ Jonathan “Johnny” Jones and the fact makes the smile donning your lips immediately fall. Like, he’s a badass pirate shark-man but also he’s a badass pirate sharkman who could _easily_ rip you apart if he wants to. Perhaps more alarming than the fact of meeting him is the fact you’re also okay if he decides to kick your butt because it’s _Johnny_. Dude. Can’t get much cooler than being a pirate captain who’s _also_ a shark.

Once you’ve crossed a sorry-looking bridge you plant your feet into the equally rickety planks of the Sunken Ship. Although most of the deck is in shambles, there’s enough odd surfaces to maintain your balance as the bandanas lead you deeper into the hull.

As expected, the interior is a _lot_ bigger than you expected. Honestly, you should stop being surprised by this.

Although pretty dark and damp, the inside isn’t that cramped and you make your way through the ship relatively quickly. During the segments where there was no lanterns lighting the path, a few ghosts materialized around your group. They appeared mostly curious but it didn’t stop Shyster from glancing at a Greaper and hiding behind you; you’d probably do the same if you saw a humanesque apparition.

“Huh,” blue notes once you’ve left the ghost-infested corridors, “looks like th’ lot was well-behaved t’day.”

“No complaints here!” Red shifts until his spear is lax against his side and eyes the darkness warily. At your confused look, he leans forward to whisper, “Aye, th’ lil’ buggers like ta play pranks on any poor soul tha’ walks through. If they be friendlies, arr.”

“‘Friendlies?’” Shyster shifts in his bindings before asking, “So if it weren’t for you two, they—?”

“They attack any intruders on sight,” blue interrupts. “They be small but a force t’be reckoned with; pirates ‘till the bitter end.” Then, in a quieter tone, “We lost a lot of good men back then.”

“Hear ye,” red murmurs behind you.

You share a somber look with Shyster before continuing further into the dilapidated hull. Although everything is so different compared to what you recall in the game, you’re still able to recognize a few rooms as you pass through them. When you bring up the whole password-puzzle thing, both bandanas simply state Johnny’s fond of riddles and left it at that. Maybe it has something to do with his code of honor too? Why else give any intruders the chance to meet him?

It’s only then do you realize blue bandana has stopped in front of you. Unfortunately for your dignity, you only realize because you keep walking and end up with a facefull of sharp scales against your cheek. Note to self: sharks aren’t that smooth. _Ouch_.

Refusing to meet the look pinned on you, you admire the small cabin and the larger door presumably leading to the captain’s quarters. Of all the things that are the same as they are in-game, you’re surprised to see the six floating blocks detailing multiple letters hovering over your head.

“...is the password still ‘pearls?’”

The two sharks startle before red bursts into a fit of cackling while blue looks reproachful. After a moment the latter shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “O’ _course_ th’ seer would know.”

You shoot a smug smirk down at Shyster and he huffs in response. “Yeah, yeah, I get it; you were right all along. I thought we already established this or is your ego that fragile?”

“It’s just nice to be appreciated, that’s all.”

Shyster doesn’t reply and his mask goes expressionless. In the end he offers a half-hearted nod.

Shrugging it off as best you can, you traverse further into the ship until you finally climb the telltale steps to the captain’s cabin. You watch the two sharks meander about before sharing a quick look and a singular nod. They approach you and Shyster and in short order they remove the ropes binding your arms. From your peripheral you see Shyster stretch a bit before openly glowering at the bandanas and you hide a snort. Looking down shows that all your cuts have scabbed over; itchy, but otherwise fine. There’s also a smattering of bruises but it’s of little concern.

“Right.” You look up and see blue motioning to you. Noting the spear still held firmly in his fin, you hesitantly approach. Jabbing his free fin into your chest, he commands, “Th’ capt’n’s been wanting to see ye, so show some respect. If yer lucky, he won’t skewer you on th’ spot.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Kinda a waste after all that effort.”

Blue bandana’s smirk falters before he bursts into laughter. “_Yar har harr_, ya got me! But you oughta really show some respect.”

You shoot a quick thumbs-up and grin at the shark. Without further ado he hastily raps on the wooden door and bellows, “Capt’n, we’ve got th’ seer here an’ waiting.”

Nothing but the steady drip of water. You share a quick glance with Shyster—

“Good. Send them in.”

You jump at the deep voice echoing about the room. Red snickers under his breath and you briefly glare at him before returning your attention to blue. You make for the door and look back only to see red stepping in front of Shyster, who glares up at the shark. He shakes his head before shooing you on.

Okay, so no Shyster. It’ll be fine. Probably.

“Remember,” blue whispers above you while he pries the ancient wood open, “_respect_.”

You wordlessly nod. On knees wobbling from stress and not fatigue, you walk into the captain’s chambers.

*** * * * * * ***

“My lackeys, as loyal as they may be, make mistakes.”

You do nothing but nod along because holy _shit_ Johnny is a _lot_ more intimidating once you’re standing in front of him. Figures, considering he’s a pirate captain who also happens to be a frickin’ sharkman. Upon closer inspection his yellow eyes appear from within the shark’s mouth; all in all he looks like a shark _wearing the skin of another shark_. Sick, but still pretty terrifying.

“Allow me to cut to the chase.” Johnny gets up from his table and in one harsh motion shoves something behind it out into the open—oh. Right. The entire reason for the central conflict.

You openly stare at the brilliant cyan light suddenly blaring in the room and the Star Piece birthing it. Nothing seems out of the ordinary so you just stand there and wait for Johnny to continue the conversation.

After a brief moment where you wilt under his piercing gaze he goes on. “This here landed in my waters so it be mine. Some spineless dogs from the mainland have tried to get their hands on this treasure fer a time, now; searchin’ through the cove and even daring to trespass in my territory. The sorry lot never makes it far, but consider me curious.”

You briefly falter in your terror to think about Seaside Town. If what Johnny just said is true, then Yaridovich already has control over the place...there was never any hope in the first place, was there?

With every word the pirate stalks around the glowing Star Piece, yellow eyes never leaving you. Holding onto his trusty trident - which looks absolutely _horrifying_ even though it’s just a massive fork - he halts in front of you. Eyes narrow and pupils slitted, he comments, “For yer sake let’s hope my men brought back a real seer.”

You swallow and glance back at the cabin door. “Uh…”

Since you can’t actually make out his face you have zero idea of what he’s feeling. Even so, you can’t help the sigh of relief when the shark turns his back on you to stand behind the Star Piece.

Prodding it with the butt of his trident, Johnny commands, “Tell me what this here is an’ we’ll take it from there.”

Resisting the urge to click your tongue or otherwise make another noise as is customary whenever you’re apprehensive, you take a breath and dive into it. You’re not the best at explaining things, but you still try to give the whole rundown of who Smithy is and why the Star Pieces are so important in stopping him. Thankfully but terrifyingly, Johnny doesn’t say a word during your stuttering speech so you have no idea if he believes you or is wondering where to dump your body when he’s done with you. You hope it’s the former.

“...and, uh, that’s about it...I think,” you finish lamely.

Johnny pauses in his staring to instead shoot a quick look at the blue Star Piece. Rubbing a fin underneath his chin, he makes a non-committal sound. “Interesting,” he begins, tone measured, “an’ promising to boot. But how can I be sure you’re telling me the truth?”

You balk; you _just_ spilled your metaphorical guts to him and he wants more? But then you glance at the prongs of the shark’s trident and think about all the times you’ve nearly been stabbed. Without hesitation you lift a finger and state, “The password to your cabin is ‘pearls,’ there’s a giant blooper called King Calamari who sunk your ship aaaand—uh, the ones trying to get to your Star Piece; did they look like Toads with gray and red accents?”

Johnny stares down his snout at you before confirming, “Aye. You know of the lot?”

“Kinda.” You shrug and explain, “Yaridovich - one of Smithy’s admirals or whatever - took over Seaside Town. Those gray and red Toads? Actually parts of him since he’s a shapeshifter.”

The shark says nothing before allowing a guttural laugh to escape. “_Yar har harr_; an’ here I was wondering where Toads suddenly had the gall to go at me!”

“I mean—Mario’s eventually gonna come here and get the Star Piece too…”

Johnny’s satisfaction seems to dissipate into the sudden tension roiling in the room. You shuffle your feet and ignore the captain’s stare all while wondering if you’re misstepped. You’re just being overly honest, right?

In your fumbling to correct yourself, you instead blurt out, “I-I mean—! Mario’s looking for the Star Pieces too because, like, he’s _Mario_ and also he’s helping out Star Road’s emissary whose mission is looking for the Star Pieces _in the first place_ and, uhhh...they’ll go to Seaside Town and get duped by Yaridovich into thinking you stole the Star Piece from him…?”

You trail off and try your hardest to not curl in on yourself any more than you already have; Johnny’s relentless stare isn’t helping. Shooting up a fake smile, you say, “Maybe expect a visit from Mario in a bit…?”

Johnny hums appreciatively under his breath. “Oh…? And how long we be talkin’?”

You pause. How long _would_ it take…? Assuming it’s nearing the end of the day, you know Mario and company just left to chase after Booster and Princess Toadstool. Would the party spend the night at Marrymore and do the whole wedding thing tomorrow? And then they have to backtrack all the way to the Mushroom Kingdom to return the princess…

How long did it take you and Shyster to make it this far? A few weeks, about.

“Uh,” you begin as brilliantly as ever, “maybe a couple of weeks or so…? I’m not too sure; me and Shyster took it kinda easy since I’ve got a bum knee.”

You glare down at the trembling appendage and out of spite shift more weight onto it. The stupid joint nearly buckles and it’s only then you realize that you’ve been on your feet for most of the day; you _did_ run up a bunch a stairs earlier. Seems like it was _weeks_ ago when you were at Booster Tower.

“You seem awful comfy in my presence; most others wouldn’t speak of weakness.”

You bite your lip and, unsure of what to say, you settle for shrugging. But the silence goes on until you realize that maybe that wasn’t a totally rhetorical observation. You amend that with an awkward cough and truthfully stating, “I mean, I’m not gonna stand here and pretend you aren’t really, _really_ intimidating because you _are_, but...I dunno, but I’m pretty sure I can trust you?”

The captain’s yellow eyes narrow in what you think is speculation. “Odd. We be strangers, and trust ain’t so simple to come by. And I’ve yet to see proof of yer capabilities, _seer_.”

...do these things have to happen right _after_ you admit something personal? _Really_?

The urge to fan the spiteful flames rises and you have to struggle to quell them instead. You’ve already gone over this whole ‘are you _actually_ a seer or are you just bullshit?’ scheme a few times already and you’re sick and tired of it.

Taking a deep breath, you look Johnny straight in the eye. “I don’t know what you want from me; I’ve already explained everything—” _relevant_, “—I know. I also know there’s no way to prove myself with immediate results, unless you go into Seaside Town and confirm Yaridovich’s presence for yourself. Other than that, you’d have to take my word for it and wait for Mario to come here and challenge you for that Star Piece.”

Johnny says nothing for a time, clearly stewing over your rant. He even replaces the Star Piece behind his personal desk and settles into his chair once again, eyeing you all the while.

“It seems,” the shark relents, “we have reached stagnant waters.”

You grunt in agreeance and try not to pout.

“Unfortunately,” Johnny begins, idly rapping on his desk with a fin, “I ain’t lookin’ to take in a couple of castaways, but it seems I have no choice.” His yellow eyes crinkle again and the tone of his voice is clearly lined with joy. “Consider yourself ransom until either Mario shows up or I throw you overboard fer wastin’ my time.”

The shark watches you closely but you just nod. Really, you aren’t in any position to argue because you and Shyster are at the pirate’s mercy.

Johnny’s tone returns to mild indifference when he states, “I be done with you. Send in my men when you leave.”

That’s it…? Trying and failing to hide a breathless exhale, you make to move on legs filled with pins and needles. With your voice caught behind your hammering heart, you limp for the exit and leave.

...well, _try_ to. The second you pry the door open two bodies simultaneously tumble to the wooden floorboards.

Bemused, you watch both the red bandana and Shyster pry themselves from the ground before shooting one another scathing glares. Hiding a grin you offer to help the Shy Guy up and he grudgingly accepts, while red scampers up to his...tailfin in a jumble of limbs and stripes. Hoisting his spear up, the shark gives a quick salute to Johnny who has yet to say anything about the obvious eavesdropping.

“C-Capt’n, sir! Jus’, ah, m-makin’ sure th’ seer didn’t try nothin’!” red stammers. Cue another of Shyster’s dirty looks.

“You mean th’ seer with th’ bad leg?” Blue sneaks up behind his fellow shark. Incredulous, he snarks, “I doubt they even know how t’ fight their way outta a barrel. No offense.”

It’s been a while since you’ve felt this small. “Well, not like you’re wrong.”

Shyster slaps his hands over his mask and you look back up at the sharks, blue now saluting like red. The two state their condolences for being nosy and await further instructions. A beat later, the two bandanas are now in charge of both you and Shyster because you’re apparently hostages _and_ crew members now.

Once Johnny rumbles “dismissed,” the four of you don’t hesitate to leave his chambers.

With the door shut, Shyster is the first to bring up arrangements. “So what’re we supposed to do now?” he asks, looking between the two sharks. Like you and the Shy Guy, red also looks at blue for guidance. Right; red bandanas are lower on the pecking order compared to blue ones.

“Le’see here…” Blue rubs a fin under his chin. “We oughta have a spare room fer the likes o’ ya. Pick your bags up an’ follow me.”

And that’s how you find yourself ambling through the hull of the Sunken Ship yet again.

“Sooo...you guys are now in charge of us?”

Red nods his head. “Aye, sure seems like it. Didn’tja listen to th’ capt’n?”

You allow a sly grin to creep onto your face. Despite the Shyster’s whisper of “what _now_,” you announce, “Then you obviously need some nicknames. I elect for blue to be called ‘Stitches’ and red ‘Stripes;’ how about it?”

“...’ave you really been callin’ us ‘blue’ an’ ‘red?’”

“How else was I gonna internally refer to you?” you argue. “Besides, I know there’s a lot more of you shark-pirates around so I can’t just keep calling you by your colors; gotta distinguish you somehow, so why not with a nickname since you don’t know my name? If it’s any consolation, Shyster isn’t _his_ name—”

“Yeah, you decided on the same name as those cheap ripoffs in the Mushroom Kingdom,” Shyster quips. Crossing his stubby arms, he goes on to say, “Stitches and Stripes; _really_? Is that as far as your creativity goes? Guess I lucked out with ‘Shyster’—_hey_!”

“Oops.” You don’t sound sorry at all but you do back off after nearly tripping the Shy Guy. Looking to both sharks, you admit, “Anyways, he’s right; I suck at coming up with names. Not like anyone’s any better since all I ever hear is ‘seer’ this and ‘seer’ that…”

Shyster then addresses both sharks. “I recommend just going with it. Could be worse down the line.”

Both bandanas share a quick look before shrugging. “Well, I don’ really care so long as I get ta order around someone else fer a change!” red exclaims. “‘Sides, Stripes be th’ only way to go ‘round these parts!”

Blue shrugs, barely glancing back at you. “So long as it makes my job easier, I’ve no complaints.”

“Alright!” Pumping up both arms, you announce, “I dub thee Stitches and Stripes!”

“An’ we can be striped buddies!” Red sidles up to you, obviously eyeing your yellow and blue striped shirt. “‘S like ya already be part o’ th’ crew, _yar har harr_…! ‘Course, what kinda pirate would I be if I let ya go without givin’ ya another name? Fair’s fair, an’ we gotta code ‘o honor!”

You pause, smile still firmly in place. “So long as it’s not ‘seer,’ I’m all for it.”

Stripes - fitting, since the guy seems a bit more chipper than his blue bandana buddy - pauses before glancing down at Shyster. “‘Ave ya two been travelin’ ‘round a lot? What’ve ye been callin’ ‘em?”

Shyster shrugs. “Nothing in particular. It’s more of a ‘hey you’ type of scenario. If it helps, they used to be called Urchin back in the Mushroom Kingdom.”

You groan; it’s a cute nickname but it’s also a reminder of you bumming off of poor Mr. Shroomby. The chill of the wooden hallways can’t banish the embarrassed blush as Shyster recounts how you used to be a homeless squatter before offering you a place if you traveled alongside him. Well, he says it a bit more eloquently but _still_.

“‘Urchin,’ huh?” Stitches murmurs thoughtfully, apparently invested. “Suits ya, giv’n how small ye be and how prickly you get.”

“...is that a compliment or an insult?”

Stitches grins, the scar beneath his eyepatch crinkling in joy. “Whichever you want it t’be. ‘Sides, me thinks somethin’ else would be more appropriate. How about it, _Sharkbait_?”

“Ooh! Me thinks it be a good name!” Stripes chimes in.

“And here I was thinking only they had a sensitive ego,” Shyster remarks besides you. “You only caught us because you were _lucky_.”

But the two sharks ignore Shyster in favor of watching your reaction. Honestly, it is a little salt to the wound of the humiliation conga; falling off Booster Tower wasn’t enough, _oh no_, you just _had_ to literally fall into the hands of pirates. Typical self-insert shenanigans. Then again it _does_ make you sound pretty cool because as everyone knows, _anything_ with sharks is automatically cool; Johnny’s a good example. Plus you’d sort of match Shyster with the alliteration.

Eh, why not? Shrugging but knowing your shit-eating grin says otherwise, you concede. “I like it enough.”

“Really?” Shyster inquires with barely hidden surprise. “You’re okay with that?”

“_Yarr_, welcome t’ th’ crew Sharkbait!” Stripes cheers, hoisting his spear up in glee. “Now there finally be someone else to do me chores!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stitches bemoans, “now I’ve got three rookies t’ look out fer.” He halts in front of a door with a single circular window so frosted you can’t make anything out on the other side. “Anyways, here be yer room fer the time bein’. As cozy as it gets...if ye not a landlubber.”

With little decorum Stitches informs you of his plans to wake you up at first light. “Probably be seein’ you two swabbin’ the decks, but I oughta talk it over with th’ capt’n,” he says. “Like gettin’ some more treasure from those pesky chests; they ain’t got no business bein’ invisible.”

After a hearty farewell from Stripes, you and Shyster watch the pair turn around and leave.

“And here I was thinking there’s not a lot of deck left,” Shyster sighs and you laugh.

Opening the creaky door shows a cramped room filled with cobwebs and nothing else; not even a single window adorns the wooden walls. The only light seems to come from the outside lanterns, seeping in through the door’s many cracks. Like much of the Sunken Ship on account of it being, y’know, partially submerged, the floor is also a tad bit moist.

“Your tent has a waterproof bottom, right?”

But as always Shyster’s steps ahead of you, digging through his backpack and unfurling the familiar green roll. A few minutes later and your tent is upright and waiting. It takes up most of the small room but it’ll make do as it’s always done.

It doesn’t take long to get comfy inside the tent. As it is, a waterlogged ship inside a cavern is pretty chilly so you and Shyster are using your sleepwear to keep warm; him in his sleeping bag and you wrapped in your borrowed quilt. Using his personal lantern for light, the two of you eat a much needed dinner of the sausages, bread, and cheese you picked up back in Moleville. You speak about today’s happenings and how you think things will play out from here. All in all, you just have to hold out until Mario shows up.

“But otherwise it’s been an okay day,” you shrug. “I didn’t get skewered by Johnny.”

“Wow.” Shyster’s tone is drier than a desert. “Your standards really _are_ low. And here I was worrying about my idiot partner and whether or not I had to bust in to save their sorry butt.”

_Doki doki_. “Aww,” you drawl, “you _do_ care about me.”

“O-oi! How many times do I have to tell you we made a deal? I’m a Shy Guy of my word!”

“I know, I know,” you tease. Curling up under your quilt you stare at the tiny lamp and the tinier flame within. “But really, thanks for everything; I wouldn’t have even made it out of the Mushroom Kingdom if it wasn’t for you. Like, it would’ve been easier if I stayed buuut...if I had the chance to go back, I wouldn’t.”

God, why is it that you always have to be so stupidly honest with your feelings all the time? Then again, you know damn well why. On the other hand you’ve already started so it’s pretty much too late to stop now.

“I-I guess what I’m trying to say is, uh, thanks for having my back all the time.” You turn away from his cocooned form and go on to admit, “You’re the first friend I’ve had in a long time.”

The resulting silence is nearly suffocating. You’re used to embarrassing yourself - tends to happen more often than you’d like - but this is just sad.

“...I get it.”

You’re glad you’re facing the other way because your face is doing something you’re pretty sure might be offensive. Honestly, you’re more surprised than anything because why would Shyster understand the loneliness you’re resigned yourself ever since your childhood? Maybe it’s just ‘cause he’s a Shy Guy? Heh.

He scoffs. “I can hear your disbelief from here.”

Turning around after schooling your expression, you wait for Shyster to continue. “Remember how I told you about leaving my village? I’ll admit what also pushed me into that decision was the fact I didn’t really...fit in.”

You perk up; best friend backstory unlocked. Quashing the guilt of all your hidden secrets, you settle back and listen.

“Look,” Shyster begins with a tired sigh, “from how you oogled me in the beginning it’s kinda obvious you’ve never seen a Shy Guy. Long story short, we tend to keep to ourselves ‘cause of security; we’re pretty much seen as mischief-makers wherever we go.”

“Like back at Rose Town,” you interject and he nods once.

“Yup. I’m not gonna deny being a thief, but even I don’t harass everyone I stumble across.” His mask quickly morphs into a harsh glare. “We are _not_ going to reference our meeting.”

You feign innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hey, remember—_yowch_!”

“Don’t make me regret not giving you a concussion.” Shyster retracts his stubby arm and you’re thankful; feels like you were just slapped with a link of meat. Rubbing your head, the Shy Guy goes on to explain, “Anyways, most others either wanted to stay put in relative peace or leave to make a name for themselves. Y’know, get esteemed and all that stuff. I didn’t want to stay, but I also never cared for that whole ‘making it big’ business. Just want to do my own thing on my own time, wherever I want.”

You hum. “Exploring seems like a good way to do all that at once...if you know what you’re doing in the first place. Thank goodness I have you around or I’d still be stuck bumming off Mr. Shroomby.”

“So you didn’t think of the geezer as a friend?”

“Uh, n-no!” you stammer, trying to back up and not trip in the process. “He was a friend! I-I just...y’know...I—”

“I think I understand.” You look over at Shyster who explains, “You felt indebted to him. Hard to think of someone like that as equal enough to call a friend.”

Numbly, you nod. Shyster doesn’t immediately respond and the two of you settle into your sleeping places, staring at the flickering flame within the tiny lamp. You can’t help but wonder if, judging by his word choice, he doesn’t think he’s your equal when nothing could be further from the truth. And if he’s your equal, then you should trust him enough to also divulge at least some of your secrets.

Swallowing, you open your mouth and...nothing.

_Coward_.

You try not to let your inner thoughts show on your face lest Shyster, the observant guy he is, to catch on to your internal plight. As much as you want to trust Shyster enough to trouble him with all your baggage, you have to first accept it all _yourself_ first. And frankly, you can’t; you just _can’t_. Not yet.

Shyster finally breaks the silence. “So is that why you seem so friendly with our abductors?”

“Wh-whu…?”

His mask is as stoic as ever. “You wanna make friends outta them? What, am I not good enough anymore?”

Shyster’s deadpan delivery startles an abrupt fit of laughter out of you. Once you calm down, chest still heaving you shoot a wide grin at the Shy Guy. He doesn’t visibly return it since he kinda can’t, but you know from his posture he seems pretty proud of himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” you wheeze, “that’s exactly it. But honestly? For starters, sharks are awesome; pirate sharks even more so. Secondly, I also know these guys have a code of honor so I doubt we’ll be in any real danger. Aaand then there’s the fact Mario and them are gonna show up lookin’ for Johnny’s Star Piece.”

“_They have a Star Piece_?!”

“Uhhh...yeah.” You rub your eyes; getting real hard keeping them open. “So I don’t think we should worry too much. We just...gotta wait until the others get here.”

Shyster shoots a probably incredulous look at you. “Oh yeah? _Then_ what?”

Groaning, you mentally go over everything the others will probably be up to in the next days. It gets to the point where you have to physically count the so-called important events on your fingers because your fatigued mind lost all coherency earlier with Johnny. Dude’s _scary_.

Losing count a few times to both yours and Shyster’s mounting frustration, you huff. As quickly as you can you explain how “Mario and them will chase Booster to Marrymore, may or may not have to serve as busboys due to debt, crash Booster and Pe—Toadstool’s wedding, fight a sentient wedding cake, aaaand...escort the princess back to the Mushroom Kingdom where she joins them. Oh, and then there’s the fact they get another Star Piece before coming here, but whatever.”

“W-what do you mean ‘whatever?’” Shyster shifts until he’s pointedly staring at you. “This might be the last time we have the opportunity to talk amongst ourselves because - and this is important - we’re _hostages_. Hey—_oi_! Wake up!”

You startle, eyes wide and heart beating frantically. Throwing a half-hearted glare at the Shy Guy - you were right there on the cusp of sweet, sweet sleep - you sniff. “Honestly I’m surprised you’re not upset at ‘sentient wedding cake.’”

“I’ll admit that makes no sense,” Shyster relents before going on to say, “but what about the other Star Piece? You’re telling me one’s already just sitting out there, ready for taking?”

You yawn. “Pretty much. C’mon, let’s go to bed already.”

Shyster says nothing for several moments. Just as you deem it safe enough to allow your eyelids to slip closed, he abruptly hisses, “You mean to tell me that this _entire_ time, a Star Piece is ready and waiting to be taken, and instead of _actually_ doing something worthwhile, you let me deduce going to Seaside Town would be our best bet? Why not suggest picking up the damned Star Piece for ourselves since it’s, y’know, the _entire reason for the conflict with Smithy_?!”

Raising a single finger, you feel yourself blink stupidly. Turns out words take longer to process the more sleepy you are. “Okay, y’know what? Let’s just say I’m an idiot and leave it at that—”

“We could’ve avoided gettin’ caught by pirates if—” A sigh. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Yup,” you enunciate. “Water under the bridge, _snrrk_.” _Ha ha_, pun.

Shyster doesn’t verbally reply but you can practically feel the deadly glare drilling into your face. But soon enough he settles back into his sleeping bag and you curl up in your quilt, trying to ward off the frigid air from making your already cold form even colder. All in all, you’re just happy you managed to get through another day with minimal mishaps. Well, besides the whole falling off Booster Tower and getting abducted by Johnny’s crew stuff; at least you didn’t get stabbed! Always a silver lining.

You bury your face into your pillow, already feeling drool beginning to slip out. A moment later the light of the lantern shifts, and after a few clicks and a puff of air the flame goes out.

Drenched in darkness, you fall asleep wondering about how you could possibly feel safe amongst pirates. The blurry silhouette of Shyster is enough of an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we're entering the second major arc of the story. Just setting up some things here.
> 
> Given how much of a marine biology buff reader is, how could I have _not_ included Johnny and his crew as notable characters? Or maybe I just wanna have some fun with some sick looking characters - so much potential! - but alas. My favoritism is showing.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	8. Whitewater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out Johnny isn't that nice. Reader isn't much better.

You groan, wiping sweat from your brow for what feels like the twentieth time. Glancing over at the Shy Guy across the deck shows he’s not doing much better than you are.

“_Ugh_, why’re we scrubbing the deck again? What’s going to sully it anyways?” you complain. “Last I checked, there’s a ceiling overhead, courtesy of the cove; not like seagulls are gonna poop all over it.”

Barely looking over the tattered playing cards in his fins, Stitches replies, “Gotta keep th’ boat clean. ‘Ave you ever pried barnacles from wood? ‘S nearly impossible.”

You crush the mophead against the grainy wood with more force than necessary. “Oh please, why would there be barnacles up here where the water doesn’t touch? They’re _planktonic_.”

“I dunno what ye be goin’ on about,” Stripes replies, too enraptured by his hand to even throw a glance at you, “but the whole ship be wet. Mornin’ fog’s already swept through.”

Making an argumentative noise, you continue trekking up and down the shattered deck, mopping all the while. “I’d understand if it was saltwater, but it’s _not_. Fog’s _freshwater_; salt doesn’t evaporate with it. The water dripping down from the stalactites is probably clean enough to drink!”

Stitches huffs under his breath, drawing from the deck between him and Stripes. “Stop yer cryin’ and get back to swabbin’.” Then in a quieter voice, “If anyone here should be cryin’ it be me; this hand be _lousy_.”

You watch the two sharks continue their game for a moment - Stitches grumbling all the while and Stripes toothily grinning - before shaking your head. Truth be told, you’re just tired of this manual labor; it’s nearly lunchtime and you’ve been scrubbing since _dawn_. You and Shyster have probably scrubbed the deck thrice times over already! If the warbled words you hear coming from Shyster are any indication, it seems he’s also tired of this.

“Aye! Quit yer whining already!” Stripes crows from his seat on a barrel before slapping down a card with vigor. Stitches slams his cards down with a hearty curse.

Tossing his mop aside, Shyster points at the red bandana. “Give me a break! This is the third day in a row you’ve had us do your dirty work!”

“Yeah!” you exclaim a beat later. “Revolution!”

“I—what?” Shyster’s tone is clearly baffled before seemingly shrugging it off. Gesturing to you and looking up at the sharks he pleads, “Look, they’ve already gone stir-crazy. And I’m hungry; how about lunch?”

Stitches and Stripes share a look before the former sighs and pockets the deck of cards. “Alright, alright; if it’ll get ye two to stop yer bellyaching.”

As per the routine you’re established the last few days, the two lead you down into the hull of the ship. Although there’s a dining commons amongst the crew, both Stitches and Stripes agreed to keep you away from them. Well, Stitches elected for it since he’s technically in charge of all red bandanas but he’d rather not have to deal with more than you, Shyster and Stripes. “Best leaving them to th’ other blues,” he had quipped.

“Sharkbait, in th’ front.”

You obey Stitches’s command and waltz in front of everyone. Sure enough, a large group of ghosts manifest in the dark hallway. No sooner do they see you do they go from wary curiosity to cozily friendly, a few Greapers swarming to you. Smiling down at the reaper-themed Shy Guys, you greet them happily before idly complaining about the two sharks and how they’re putting you through the ringer. The Greapers don’t verbally reply - they never do - but you talk to them anyways since it seems like they enjoy it.

“Bye-bye!” you wave at them just as you’re about to enter the lit parts of the hull. “Don’t haunt too many pirates!”

The Greapers merely watch you go before disappearing back into the dark corridors where all the ghosts seem to reside. As soon as they go Shyster walks up to you and crosses his arms. Shivering, he goes, “I don’t know how you can stand those guys; they give me the creeps.”

You roll your eyes. “Not surprised since they’re basically, like, ghost Shy Guys. I, for one, think they’re _adorable_.”

Shyster nearly trips, babbling in his own tongue. Finally he squeaks out, “‘A-adorable?!’ In what world?”

“They’re mini-reapers. Automatically cool _and_ cute, since they’re small. Plus masks are just neat.”

“...you don’t even wear a mask.”

“Oh, oh!” Stripes shoves himself into your vision, filling it with his long snout and yellow eyes. “What about me? Oooh, an’ what about the capt’n?”

You hum, pretending to think deeply about it. Judging by the deadpan looks both Stitches and Shyster are giving you, it’s not fooling anyone. Anyone except for the puppy-like shark waiting for an answer, that is. Shrugging, you state the obvious: “Dude, you’re a shark who’s _also_ a pirate. That’s basically the _definition_ of cool.”

Stripes cheers for a bit and the four of you continue to the small room in cellars you’ve used for meals. Sure, the place is filled with cobwebs - “someone’s been shirken’ on th’ job” Stitches remarked - but it’s homey nonetheless. Taking your place on top of a crate with Shyster making himself comfy on the floor besides it, you both wait to see what’s on the menu today. After a bit of rummaging, Stitches comes back with an entire salmon and a bag of potatoes.

The blue bandana looks between you and Shyster. “Right then. Who here be good with a paring knife?”

Shyster sighs and raises a hand. The rest of lunchtime is basically Stitches handing out orders left and right in order to prepare the meal. All in all it doesn’t take too long, but your stomach makes quite the fuss while you help Shyster peel and slice the potatoes. Stripes is in charge of getting a small stove going and Stitches, being the most culinarily experienced, prepares the salmon by his lonesome. It’s a bit odd and maybe a tad gross, but he eats all the accessory parts that aren’t the fillets. Eh, makes sense since he _is_ a carnivorous fish. If anything, it explains his fishy breath.

Lunch is actually pretty dang good, even if the only seasonings used were salt and pepper...though you _did_ suggest picking up some onions, garlic and chilis at minimum. Both sharks vetoed the idea since that sorta produce is hard to come by, according to Stitches. Who knew pirates are so miserly when it comes to flavor?

“Whew! I’m stuffed,” you say, patting your belly contently. “I’d say it’s the perfect time for an afternoon nap, but lemme guess: time to scrub the halls.”

Shyster openly groans while the two sharks share a look.

“Well...I do suppose that’s the next set of chores t’be done,” Stitches agrees, fin under his chin. Glancing over at Stripes, the blue bandana allows himself a smirk. With a single yellow eye trained on you, he inquires, “Unless you lot know how to play cards…?”

You and Shyster exchange a look.

*** * * * * * ***

“Well I be an oyster filled wit’ pearls! My win again!”

Both Stitches and Shyster grumble before the former goes to shuffle the deck once more, clearly ignoring Stripes’s elation. Then again, the blue bandana actually has probable cause since he’s yet to win a single game as opposed to Shyster, who’s about even with Stripes. You’re not playing because the only card games you know are crazy eights and go fish.

Dealing the cards out, Stitches growls, “We be done once I net myself a win, _arrr_.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up too much,” Shyster dryly remarks besides him. “Take it from me who travels alongside clumsy over here.”

The Shy Guy pointedly looks at your bandaged middle finger; you did manage to cut yourself using a dull peeler. The fact you also burned the same finger frying the potatoes is basically insult to injury. Besides, your culinary skills are...okay-ish. Throwing together stuff and having it taste good? Easy. Actual preparation and cooking? Tends to result in pain.

As it is, it looks like you broke your finger. “Woah, the _disrespect_.”

Shyster scoffs but goes back to playing cards with the two sharks. You’re not too keen on what card game they’re playing, though Stripes offhandedly mentions he wishes the cribbage board wasn’t in the captain’s quarters. A few rounds later and it seems they’re playing another game entirely, if Stitches snide comment on Shyster’s “poker face” is anything to go by.

The boredom is slow but gradual. Shyster’s prior comment on you being stir-crazy is coming true; at least that’s what you’re telling yourself. If you’re being honest, you...you feel maybe just a tad left out. Sure, maybe you didn’t ask to learn all these new card games but you also don’t want to waste their time more than necessary. You’re happy that Shyster can hang out with more like-minded people, but…it’s nice to be included in things, to be wanted at all.

Being alone is never fun.

But you suck it up as you’ve always done before you met an estranged Shy Guy, finding amusement in other ways. Like getting lost in your memories which may or may not be that enjoyable in the first place! Like all those times you said the wrong thing or were otherwise super embarrassed!

Unable to help yourself, you bite out, “Maybe you guys would have better luck at the casino.”

The lull is shattered when all three stop hovering over their hands to look over at you. Clearly, the lot’s never heard of Grate Guy’s casino.

“...what casino?” Stitches inquires. _Ayup, there we go_.

“Yeah, I ain’t never heard o’ no casino ‘round these parts!” Stripes inputs, to which Shyster nods. _But of course_.

A little bitter because it apparently doesn’t take much to gain their attention but elated you can show off your foreknowledge, you explain there’s a hidden casino just beyond Bean Valley. Your audience asks questions and you begrudgingly admit getting to the casino is probably the easiest part, but getting the membership—excuse you, the Bright Card to get into the casino? _Guide dang it_ if you’ve ever heard of one.

…_Super Mario RPG_ is just like that though.

Despite maybe telling them it probably isn’t worth it and the casino’s pretty rigged anyways, the allure of winning some cold hard coins seems to be too much for them to resist. “Bet it’s easier than getting some at Rose Way,” Shyster had commented to which both Stitches and Stripes immediately questioned “coins? Rose Way?” Huh, maybe there’s something to the ‘thick as thieves’ saying after all.

Aaand that’s how you find yourself waiting outside Johnny’s room while Stitches and Stripes make a case to leave with you and Shyster in tow. Honestly you’d prefer it if the three of them were still playing cards.

Looking down at Shyster, you mention, “Hey, maybe this time we can look around Yo’ster Isle; looks nice and beach-y.”

He immediately makes a noise of disagreement. “I could do without looking at a Yoshi, much less hanging around an island full of them.”

“You don’t like Yoshis? Huh, wonder why.” Even saying so, your tone fails to even have an ounce of genuine curiosity. If Shyster’s abrupt snort is any indication, he isn’t fooled.

“Still, seems like Yo’ster Isle is a lot smaller than what I know of Yoshi’s Island,” you observe, recalling the trip alongside its shores when you were taken to the Sunken Ship. “And what about Dinosaur Land? And here I was thinking everything was bigger than I thought it’d be…”

Electing to ignore your last comment, Shyster responds, “Yo’ster Isle is just a small offshoot of the mainland, which is the ‘real’ Yoshi’s Island. Luckily for me I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard enough horror stories from the elders who were there during the whole spectacle with—”

“You mean baby Bowser? Or Kamek kidnapping baby Luigi instead of both Mario and—”

Shyster waves you off just as the captain’s door opens again. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a seer and pretty much know everything.” Addressing the two bandanas, he asks, “So what’s the verdict? We leavin’ this rickety ship to grab some quick cash or what?”

“Aye,” Stitches confirms before going on to explain, “but you two better listen t’ me. When I say ‘jump’ _ya jump_; got it? An’ don’t you _dare_ think you can run away on my watch.”

You and Shyster share a look before he scoffs. “Please. Last I checked we’re weaponless. Not like we’re gonna make a break for it in hostile territory.”

Stitches moves his glare over to you. Shrugging, you ask, “Can I just stay here and swab the halls?”

Least to say you end up on the same piddly boat you arrived into the cove on. Thankfully for Shyster, the two sharks row you to the mainland instead of detouring back to Yo’ster Isle. They do end up giving the coast a pretty large berth likely because Johnny told them of Seaside Town’s predicament, so it takes longer to dock on the rocky shore near Booster Tower.

As requested, read: demanded of Stitches, you and Shyster fall into line behind the blue bandana whilst Stripes covers the rear. The bright side is the two of you aren’t tied up, so that’s a plus.

Since you haven’t been doing many arduous tasks required the use of your gimpy leg, hiking up the rocky paths toward Booster Tower isn’t too grueling. It takes the better part of the hour, but with most of the day still left the four of you take it relatively easy.

Turns out the staff replaced the front door while you were gone. Stitches grumbles before barging into the lobby without so much as a knock; you try to remedy that by quickly ringing the bell on the frame to give some warning.

A blue Snifit mans the front desk and barely glances up at the four of you. “Booster’s not here, but feel free to look around. And tell your fishy friends they oughta leave by dusk since that’s closing time.”

You point to yourself and the Snifit sighs. Going back to stamping a pile of papers, they quip, “What? Did you two resign or something?”

“Uhhh,” you drawl, shrugging at both Stitches and Stripes, “I guess…?” At least it’s better than saying you got abducted.

Making a disgruntled sound, Shyster approaches the front desk. “Look, is that Harle—Knife Guy still here or what?”

The Snifit says nothing for a moment before recommending you to the upper floors. You thank them before they simply sigh and warn you not to get on his bad side, even if he’s technically no longer under the employ of Booster.

Hoo boy, if you thought hiking through the mountainous, craggy paths to Booster Tower was one ordeal, crawling up all those damned staircases is another thing _entirely_. Even now as you grip the railing and try ignoring the swelling in your knee, you know it’ll be out of commission for the next day at least. Maybe you can get out of swabbing…?

“Oi Sharkbait, get yer behind up ‘ere already!”

Grumbling a sour affirmative, you muster the energy to shoot glare at Stitches who grins wolfishly in response. Then you find yourself glaring behind you at Stripes for nearly plunging his speartip into your ass. Rubbing it, you grimace and he simply lets loose a harsh laugh.

It feels like forever before you climb up the...what? Fifteenth set of stairs? Anyways, standing up against the wooden walls and juggling bright red and yellow balls is none other than Knife Guy himself.

The clown doesn’t pause in his little game, even as his cross-shaped eyes hone in on your entourage.

“Well, well, well,” his snide voice begins and Stitches’s posture turns taut, “if it isn’t my little fishy friends! Enjoying Booster Tower now that you’re welcome guests?” Then peering behind the pirate’s tall visage he spots you and Shyster. His grin widens as he exclaims, “Oh, and what a treat you’ve brought me; my little and littler spitfires!”

You can’t help but wave weakly while Shyster crosses his arms and openly groans. “Don’t start with that,” he says shortly to which Knife Guy giggles.

Opting to ignore the Shy Guy, the clown looks you over. “I must say, it’s surprising seeing you in one whole piece after we departed last time. What a spectacle you made of yourself; the flare, the risk, the passion! I was almost jealous, _hee hee_…!”

“I almost died, but thanks,” you bite out against your better judgement. This earns a laugh from both Knife Guy and Stitches, though the latter muffles it.

Knife Guy continues his juggling as he goes on to mention, “And I see you’ve taken to the two fish here. How strange, considering the safety you sought within this tower…_Hee hee_! Interesting indeed. You _must_ amuse me, even if for a little while; it’s been dreadfully boring without pesky plumbers to fight nor fish to fry. A tale for a tale, dearest spitfire?”

Despite how both Stitches and Stripes shift uncomfortably, you shrug nonchalantly. Deciding to go down the blunt path, you state, “I dunno; me and Shyster fell off the top of the tower and then these two pirates abducted us but we’re cool now. That’s...basically it?”

Knife Guy actually stops his juggling, pocketing most of the balls before chiding, “Ohoho, and here I was thinking you had at least _some_ form of sense. It seems I was wrong, though I can’t deny how invested this makes me. A seer without sense...though it certainly explains how you ended up with these acquaintances.”

You can’t stop the glower but the clown makes no mention of the look you’re throwing his way, nor of the glares being offered by both Shyster and Stitches. If anything, his wide grin grows even wider.

“Now, now,” Knife Guy’s carefree tone is a stark contrast to the tension roiling in the air, “a deal’s a deal, I suppose. Being the seer you are, surely you know of my brother’s entrepreneur antics?”

Unable to help himself, Shyster finally spits out, “Why else do you think we’re here? It’s certainly not to catch up with _you_.”

“...pretty much what he said,” you add. “We’re here for the Bright Card.”

“But of course the seer would know even that, too! So do you know what it will take for me to relent the card, I wonder...?” Knife Guy quickly grabs a fistfull of red balls with his huge, cartoonish gloves before retrieving a single yellow ball and dang it, you don’t want to do this stupid minigame.

The clown goes on without a care, clearly pleased with the prospect of having some fun at your expense. Seemingly reading your thoughts, he explains, “I can’t just hand out the cards without gaining something in turn, you know. A trade for a trade for a fair exchange!”

Stitches turns around and stares at you with his single eye. “What the hell’s this loon goin’ on about, Sharkbait?”

You sigh. “...he’s gonna juggle those balls super fast and we have to guess which hand is holding the yellow one. Twenty wins and he’ll give us the Bright Card.”

Despite the two glares, courtesy of Stitches and Shyster, drilling into him, Knife Guy simply cheers. “Precisely! If you can’t succeed against me let it be known you have zero chance in my brother’s casino!”

“A game? Oooh, I’ve been wantin’ a challenge!” Stripes suddenly pushes past you and approaches the clown. “How’s about it? Ol’ Stitches ‘ere ain’t won against me yet!”

Despite apparently having gotten into a scuffle earlier, Knife Guy smiles amicably at the pirate. “And so my first challenger approaches! Ready?”

“Aye!”

Turns out letting Stripes have a go at Knife Guy’s game was the optimal route to go. Sure, winning the game’s a solid 50/50 chance, but like with cards the red bandana is _ridiculously_ good at getting the correct answer. It gets to the point when Shyster butts in and has a go at it, but is still short of wins compared to Stripes. You and Stitches sit out because you’re observations skills are...lacking, while Stitches has the very real excuse of limited depth perception due to his eyepatch. Or so he says; you figure he just doesn’t wanna bother with the clown.

Once the fancy card is within Stripes’s fin, Knife Guy does a curt bow. “Well, that was a fun waste of time! A shame my little spitfire wanted no part in my game, but alas we all have roles that we must fulfill.”

The clown smiles over at you and something unpleasant lodges itself in your chest at his next words: “I can’t help wondering what _your_ role is, little seer. Something out of this world, I’m sure!”

Trying to ignore the icy dread sloshing through you veins - how does he know, _how does he know_? - you rush a quick thanks before hurrying down the stairs as fast as you dumb knee can. Idly, you can hear Stitches complain about Knife Guy’s general creepy countenance to Shyster, but the words mostly fall of deaf ears. As it is, Booster Tower is too crowding for you to feel comfortable within its walls.

It’s only once you’re out in the open air does the stifling heat trapped within your lungs go away.

Something gently touches your shoulder and you jump, quickly whirling—oh. It’s just Stitches, whose single eye narrows down at you. Quietly, he whispers, “How ya holdin’ up, Sharkbait?”

Unhanding your ribcage, you shrug. “Doin’ fine. Shouldn’t we be heading back to the ship?”

Stitches pauses and you struggle to not visibly wilt under his gaze. With a sigh he finally relents, motioning to both Shyster and Stripes behind him. “Alrighty you lot, we can head down to th’ beach or we can take a shortcut through th’ pipes. So what’ll it be?”

Shyster peeks over at you and then down at your shivering knee. “Shortcut.”

“‘S fine by me!” Stripes says, hoisting his spear up. “It’ll be like livin’ though th’ ol’ glory days when we first caught ye! More slippery than a couple o’ sardines, that’s fer sure, _yar har_!”

You can’t help rolling your eyes and you figure Shyster does the same, if him crossing his arms gives any indication. Still, the two of you fall into line between the bandanas and you slowly but surely make your way to the Pipe Vault. It’s just like you remember it: a whole lot bigger than it is in-game.

“At least we aren’t tied up like hogs,” Shyster summarizes your precise thoughts.

“Keep behavin’ yerselves and it won’t be an issue,” is all Stitches replies. Because really, when you’ve got a safe space to sleep every night and you don’t have to worry about where your next meal’s coming from, why run away? Being ‘hostages’ of Johnny isn’t that bad, all things considered.

Like the last time you traversed through the Pipe Vault, the passages are rife with slick stone and, well, pipes. Unlike last time, your small group ends up stopping by the mole running the Goomba-thumping minigame and participating. As expected, both Shyster and Stripes have a go at it, trying to beat one another’s top score; the surprise is that Stitches outdo’s the both of them handily. Turns out the blue bandana’s just _really_ good with that spear of his...even with his ‘depth perception’ issues.

Dozens more coins for the richer, the four of you once again embark on the dark, dank journey through the tunnels. Sure, you have to stop and let Stitches and Stripes deal with a few Piranha Plants and Goombas too curious for their own good, but that’s all in a day’s work for the pirates.

You vaguely recall the way you took several days ago when you and Shyster were initially taken, but so far this route seems a bit...different. For one, you’re going through a few more pipes than last time, and after the fifth you’re beginning to grow a little ill; claustrophobic darkness and weightlessness are never great together. But you persevere, even as you approach a thin walkway suspended above what looks like nothingness.

Knowing your luck, you should’ve expected something horrible to happen. And sure enough the universe doesn’t disappoint; slowly approaching from the other side are several Spikeys. You still have that scar from your initial foray into Bandit’s Way.

“Fall in line, you couple o’ landlubbers,” Stitches sighs, hoisting up his spear. “Red, with me.”

It’s difficult but you allow Stripes to sneak past you, spear held at the ready like his partner. You slowly back up alongside Shyster while the two sharks begin to swipe at the oncoming foes—

Aaand then you manage to slip on the slick bricks. Y’know, like a dumbass.

With you heart skipping a beat and mouth letting loose a quick curse, your arms fling out to find any sort of purchase. Your fingers find empty air. It’s the last thing you register before weightlessness encompasses you once more, though there’s no pipe to be found this time.

Through the blood pounding between your ears and the frantic heartbeat thrumming in your head, you listen to the chorus of “_Sharkbait_!”

Your tongue is too frozen in fear to yell back.

Wind whips past your head and lifts your shirt, but you know it’s just gravity acting upon your mass. Still, you continue searching for the walkway and the blurry silhouettes of your friends. This is _so_ much worse than back on the cliffs near the Sunken Ship.

The last rational though to cross your mind is that you don’t really like Spikeys before you crash into—

*** * * * * * ***

It’s cold and you can’t feel your fingers but you kick your legs as hard as you can because if you give up now then there’s no way to save yourself and you try and _you try_ but something snaps and the cold can’t halt the pain pain _pain_ so you claw with your arms because they’re all you have left and and _and_—

Something keeps pulling you down and weighing you down and you hate it but not nearly as much as the heat trapped behind your ribs which scalds and burns but you can’t let it out because it’s all you have left and you can’t deal with it anymore because it _hurts_ and—

You _scream_.

The cold enters and doesn’t leave, at least for a bit. Something small and warm breaks through the surface and latches on to your hand and the next thing you know is _freedom_.

Coughing and gasping, your blurry vision cannot see anything save for the dull blue beneath you. You blink and the blurriness fades, but not completely. It’s still enough to see the familiar stripes of your shirt and to notice how badly your arms are quivering, even though you can’t seem to feel them.

Something warm and small presses against your—your back? It’s like a small spot of heat and you relish it as best you can. The blurriness in your vision returns and you continue to cough and sputter until something wet falls into your lap and—oh.

You heave and heave until the last drop of water has been rung from your lungs. The air around you is cold but not as bitingly so as the water soaking your clothes and stinging your eyes. Faintly, your heart begins to beat steadily until warmth begins to innervate your limbs once more.

“You okay yet?”

It takes a bit longer for you to process the words but you slowly nod; you may not feel all too great but at least you’re not—at least you’re out of the water.

The small spot of warmth recedes and your fruitlessly curl in on yourself to hold on to what little remains. It’s only then when a familiar - familiar? - face shoves itself into your view.

“You looked to be in a rough spot, so I decided to bail you out,” the Shy Ranger states, mask indecipherable.

You nod again, voice caught behind a tongue that feels far too heavy for your jaw. It’s only when they sigh and return to rubbing small circles into your back do you finally find the energy to react. The mistiness returns to your vision at the same time you blurble, “...th-thank you for caring.”

Your ribs already ache from your struggle including hitting the water’s surface, but you still care enough to try and hide the sobs so they ricochette painfully within. The Shy Ranger says nothing but remains, allowing you to bask in their attention even if for a short while.

You’re not sure how long you sit there like a wet rag, but it feels like forever before you finally ask the Shy Ranger which way the exit is. They simply look at you once before wordlessly motioning you to follow them.

Though they are small, you find yourself slower than their tiny leg span. It’s only after a few minutes of silently following them do you realize how badly you’re limping and how bulbous your knee appears. Shrugging it off as best you can, you make sure to maintain your footing on these slick bricks for fear of falling again.

It’s the same closed-in corridors, the same empty passages.

“Can...can I ask why?”

The Shy Ranger barely glances at you. “Why what?”

You swallow. “Why you bothered with me?”

“...” The Shy Ranger lets their mask linger on you for a moment longer. “I know who you are, or rather what you are. Intel’s pretty tight around here, but I’ll admit I got it from that guy with the cape. You know him?”

_Of course it was Geno_. “Unfortunately.”

“Then consider me helping you an indirect payback. He and his friends got me good the last time they came through, and from the sounds of it he had it out for someone with your description.”

It’s a bit disheartening to hear they only saved you out of spite, but you can’t blame them. Hell, you’d probably resort to the same mindset. In the end you shrug it off and continue limping besides the Shy Ranger.

A few more minutes of silence pass before they break it. “Even so, losing a seer would be a waste of info. Consider it an act of solidarity, from one know-how to another.”

Your lips curl into a small smile despite yourself. “Sure.”

Soon enough you arrive at a singular green pipe resting in a small room. Just as you turn around to thank the Shy Ranger, you find they’re no longer behind you. In the end, you still smile and echo lonely “thanks” into the room. If they’re sneaky enough to keep tabs on Geno and them, then they’re plenty sneaky enough to hear you.

Once you’re sitting along the pipe’s ridge, you allow gravity to do the rest of the work.

You’re so tired you barely recognize the blurred passage inside the pipe, nor when you exit into aboveground. With you being so out of sorts, your landing is a bit painful since you end up collapsing onto the dirt in a heap.

Ignoring the sting of fresh cuts is easy since it’s similar enough to the cold still picking at your skin. Ignoring the fatigue which causes your vision to waver like quicksand? That’s the challenge you can’t seem to surmount.

Tilting your head back, you notice there’s plenty of daylight left. It’s only then when your eyelids flutter shut and you think fighting sleep is pretty useless at this point; better to conserve what little of your energy remains. So you embrace the oncoming darkness and curl up on the dirt, trapping what little heat you have.

…

“—up!”

What…? Why’s there red? You—why can you only see red…? But it’s so warm and comfortable; comfortable enough to return to sleep and forget about everything, just for a bit…

“Get up already!” _Slap_.

_That_ gets you to open your eyes fully. At least until direct sunlight causes you to shut them again with a wince. This results in someone shoving their hands into your face and forcing your eyelids apart and—huh.

“_Urgh_...how’re you doin’ that without fingers?”

Shyster heaves a sigh before announcing, “They’re fine. Mostly.”

“Fer pearl’s sake, we can’t keep our eyes off ya fer one stinkin’ minute, can we?” Peering down at you is none other than Stitches, who single eye is narrowed thoughtfully. “Well, at least you found yer way out; made it a bit easier t’ find you.”

“Oooh Sharkbait!” Stripes abruptly reaches down and grabs you around the waist before crushing you against his shirt. Aaand now he’s swinging you around while still rubbing his harsh scales up and down your face; _ergh_, sandpaper. “Don’ go scarin’ me like that again! We wouldn’t know where ‘t look fer treasure if ye weren’t around!”

He stops swinging you around but still holds you close. Then he whispers, “‘An yer pal there be _real_ scary when ye not ‘round. _Arr_, gives me th’ shivers; he be worse than th’ Capt’n!”

“Shut it, you overgrown fish!” Peering over Stripes’ shoulder shows Shyster glumly glaring at him.

Stripes shudders minutely. “See, he be scary!”

The red bandana releases you and you nearly stumble. Although you’re still very cold and uncomfortable due to the still-damp clothes, you take a moment to groggily stretch. The only sounds between you four are the persistent _pops_ and _cracks_ of your joints doing their thing.

“...that can’t be normal,” Shyster states. “What, d’you have popcorn for joints or something?”

“The structural integrity of my bones has always been failing. Kinda like me at life.”

The two sharks share a quick look. “Yeesh,” Stripes quips, “jus’ glad it ain’t me bones that sound like a sinkin’ ship.”

You squint at him. “...You don’t have any bones.” Technically speaking, the dentin making up teeth isn’t considered bone...right? But they persist well after death like much of the skeleton...Eh, semantics.

“Obviously Sharkbait’s fine,” Stitches interjects, looking over everyone. “So let’s jus’ head back to th’ ship; we’ve lost too much daylight t’ seek the casino.”

So your merry little band sets out once more. Your knee is still pretty busted, but it’s a small price to pay to keep your...outburst to yourself and that Shy Ranger who probably saw the whole thing. It’s a slow trek because of your stupid joint, not to mention your inexplicably cold counterance which makes it seem like you’re walking in slow motion. It eventually culminates in Stripes hoisting you onto his back at Stitches’ command.

If you feel like a deadweight, then you say nothing about it.

When you’re back on the small rowboat, Shyster scoots up besides you and you try to not think about how warm he is or how good that heat feels. It reminds you of the Shy Ranger, and suddenly you know you have to explain what happened after you fell.

Sure enough, not even five minutes into the ride does Stitches bring it up. “How’d ya end up outside th’ vault, Sharkbait?”

Blinking slowly and much too tired to come up with a viable excuse, you end up telling a partial truth. “Fell into some water and a Shy Ranger helped me out; led me out of the place and everything. Then I fell asleep and you know the rest.”

“You saw a Shy Ranger?” Shyster questions and you nod.

“Pretty sure. They were a Shy Guy wearing a camo-themed...cloak? Robe?”

“Robe,” Shyster corrects automatically before letting out a small whistle. “Those guys are pretty tough from what I hear. And even more solitary than me—stop looking at me like that. I’m just surprised one decided to help you out.”

_You and me both_ goes unsaid. “Apparently it was ‘cause Geno and them passed through and, uh, ‘got them good.’ And since me and Geno aren’t on the greatest of terms...yeah. ‘Indirect payback’ is what they said.”

A fin snakes its way over your shoulders. Trying to ignore the fishy breath of Stripes, you listen as he crows about how he’s glad you’re alright and how they’ve already found so many coins that Johnny’ll be pleased ‘fer sure.’ He continues his triade of these pseudo-compliments before Stitches hollers at him to keep rowing.

You never did get to see Yo’ster Isle.

*** * * * * * ***

Although you didn’t slip on the slippery rocks in the cove, you sorta wish you did.

Johnny barely looks up from his glass of...wine? Mulberry juice? “Report.”

Your butt has already gone numb on this stool but you don’t shift because Shyster, bless his tiny warm body, is sitting on your lap. You both know he’s only doing this to warm you up since you can’t seem to do so yourself, so you restrain yourself from poking fun at him. That and there’s a no-nonsense pirate captain shark-man sitting across the room.

Stripes coughs once while Stitches goes, “Roger.” He then proceeds to explain everything that happened, from Booster Tower to you falling off a pathway in the Pipe Vault, in an effort to remedy the situation. After all, Johnny only gave the okay for you to leave because of the promise of some more coins via gambling at a casino.

“...but we did manage to get some more coins on th’ way back,” Stitches finishes, placing a worn pouch on the desk.

Johnny says nothing, idly swirling the maroon liquid in his glass with his hook. The tension grows the longer the captain refuses to speak, but both Stitches and Stripes stand tall and at the ready.

The thing _you_ don’t particularly like is how Johnny stares through his crew members to instead look at you. While you aren’t shivering anymore, you can’t help but curl further in on yourself. Maybe if you tried hard enough you could hide away in Shyster’s hood.

The Shy Guy shifts. “What’s the deal, big guy?”

From your peripheral you watch both Stitches and Stripes gain unsightly expressions before stiffening in what you assume is horror. Not like Shyster didn’t just disrespect the captain of all these pirates or anything.

If your curl over Shyster a little more, well, that’s between you and Johnny.

But the captain averts his gaze down to him. “You dare speak out against yer captain?”

Shyster is distinctly non-plussed despite the fact he has no slingshot nor any other means of defending himself. “If you wanna say something, just _say it_ for star’s sake and stop staring at them.”

_Oof_. You _really_ don’t like how narrow Johnny’s eyes get nor how Stitches isn’t being subtle at all in his gestures to for Shyster to stop talking. Really, you’d think sharks wouldn’t use the whole ‘waving a fin around in an abortive way,’ but then again the last time you checked sharks don’t vocalize.

“Ya gotta lot of gall for a Shy Guy,” Johnny states after what feels like an eternity. “Color me impressed.”

Shyster huffs but you feel his posture loosen up a bit; must’ve been the nerves. Even so, surely it’s easier to stare down the captain of a bunch of pirates when your eyes - if you even _have_ any - are hidden behind a mask?

“But it be true,” Johnny goes on, setting down his glass. With slitted yellow eyes trained directly on you, he states, “I wish to speak with th’ seer; _alone_. The rest of you be dismissed.”

Yeah, you’re wishing you actually fell off the cove’s trail.

Once the door shuts behind Shyster and the two bandanas, you break out into a cold sweat. Well, not really, but the adrenaline coursing through you serves a similar enough function.

“You know…” Johnny does the equivalent of steepling his fins together, hunching over his desk. “Fer bein’ a seer, you seem to find yerself in leagues of trouble. And yet yer about as spineless as a sponge.”

_Oh-ho_, so that’s a real conversation starter right there.

Unfortunately for your admittedly tiny self-esteem, Johnny isn’t done ripping you apart. Metaphorically, of course.

“Now yer pal’s another story,” the captain explains. “I can see why you’d latch onto ‘im like a barnacle to me ship; he’s got guts. An’ from my men ‘ave told me, he’s the only one outta you two to put up any sort of fight while you let ‘im do your dirty work. Tell me, _seer_, what’s yer worth? Or are you gonna keep hidin’ behind someone not even half yer height?”

...it may be metaphorical but enough emotional distress _can_ lead to physical symptoms. Like your bones currently crunching and grinding against one another while you wilt beneath Johnny’s harsh gaze.

“Th’ only reason you still be on me ship is by my mercy. I don’t see a point t’ keeping ye around if you have no use, ‘specially after you told me everythin’ I need to know.”

What hurts the most is that he’s _right_.

You’ve done _nothing_ to earn your place besides Shyster aside from the fact you have some knowledge pertaining to his interests. Even so, have you done anything to appease him? Have you truly, honestly succeeded in any of his endeavours to - rightfully - save his home world? Have you done anything besides mess up only for him to pay for your mistakes?

Sure, it’s you who gets hurt time and time again, but what’s a little more pain compared to the lifetime you’ve already suffered through? What’s a little more on your plate to know that your selfishness is what’s keeping Shyster chained to you like some sort of tool? What’s a little more when you know you’re not a good person but you don’t care enough to even try and change? What’s a little more when you were never supposed to exist here at all...?

You had told Shyster you were afraid of fading away into obscurity. You told him you wanted to do something meaningful for once in your otherwise uneventful life. He agreed.

Nothing but _lies_.

Your hands find themselves clutching onto your shoulders, hugging yourself so tightly your ribs feel like a loaded spring. It’s a poor consolation but it’s the only thing holding you together, pinned beneath the uncaring gaze of a video-game character brought to life as if to personally torment you.

Something slick and cloying like oil slithers into your mind and it takes everything to push away the stinging behind your eyes. You know you’re not the best state of mind - haven’t been since the Pipe Vault - but your emotions cannot be halted so easily. Your shoulders are beginning to ache.

You thought this was a dream. But now it just feels like a nightmare.

Johnny’s guttural voice breaks through the denseness clogging your head. “Are ye really gonna sit here and tell me a few walkin’ urchins scared you so bad ye jumped?”

You _fell_.

“_Fuck you_.”

Your lips are twisted into something ugly and your teeth are clenched but you _don’t care_.

Barely, you watch Johnny’s golden eyes narrow further before the mistiness clouds your vision further. His silhouette shifts until he’s risen from his seat but you jump up, too, nothing more than a puppet being strung along by its own anger.

“What do you know about me? _Nothing_,” you snarl, the words sharp in their bitterness.

“I know yer type well enough to see yer nothin’ but a coward,” Johnny says in kind. “An’ I have no room for spineless whelps on me ship.”

Something cold and cruel bubbles up until it overflows. A giggle? A laugh? A wheeze? You’re not sure, but its mocking nature is obvious. “_Haaah, your_ ship? Last I heard this piece of crap got sunk by an oversized squid. And what did _you_ do? _Nothing_.”

You don’t bother with stating the obvious, but the message is clear: his men died in vain.

Johnny’s reception is likewise easy enough to decipher: he grabs his signature trident.

Another sardonic noise escapes your tight throat. “There we go. If you want to get rid of me so damn bad, then _do it yourself_. Trust me, it’ll be _far_ easier than King Calamari.”

Your arms unclasp themselves and extend as if presenting your torso. There are many things running amok inside your head but the only one you focus on is that the adrenaline coursing through you will dull the pain.

Johnny barks a likewise cruel sound, a shadow of a laugh. “Ye think that’s brave? Only fools lay down their lives.”

Your lips quiver into a wicked grin. “And you think I care because…?”

“If ye didn’t then why bother with yer little pal?”

The blurriness in your vision dissipates briefly. The tears may fall but they continue to spring up into your eyes, stinging and burning like your ribcage in its effort to hide your sobs.

Your next words are bitter on your tongue. “He’d be better off without me.”

And it’s true. If you hadn’t crossed paths he wouldn’t have ever decided to adventure around in some poorly executed crusade to save his world. If you had never arrived here then he would’ve just been another Shy Guy roaming the land, another face in the crowd. Someone unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

...he didn’t want that. He said he wanted to at least _try_ and do something.

You may have offered him a chance but really, who are you kidding? You’ve been more of a handicap than anything else. If it wasn’t for his promise to Mr. Shroomby, you’re sure he would’ve never bothered with you.

“Is that so?” Johnny takes a menacing step forward but you can’t be bothered to even flinch. “Then answer me this: why do ye keep clingin’ onto him then? Wouldja really be satisfied leavin’ the likes of him alone with my men? Me?”

You scoff, but the fight behind it has clearly stagnated. “Like you’d actually kill him when you haven’t even tried to kill me.”

Johnny says nothing but stops his approach.

Shrugging and feeling like the weight of the world is settling onto your shoulders, you sag back onto the stool. “Besides, he’s a lot like you; being fair and all that. We made a deal and he’s hellbent on making sure he keeps his part of it. He’d probably fit in better here than anywhere else.”

“A deal, eh?” Johnny murmurs thoughtfully. “And what have ye done to deserve his devotion?”

The answer falls fast and heavy. “Nothing.”

“And yet ye come at me, barbed up to the ears with words.”

The vitriol comes back heady and strong. You’re not sure if it’s a massive headache building up or your clogged sinuses beginning to take their toll, but your head mimics the frantic beat of your heart. Clawing at your temples, you grit out, “What? What do you even want from me if not my corpse? You want me to admit I’m a piece of shit? _I’m a piece of shit_. There; are you happy yet?”

“I be ‘happy’ when ye get tough,” Johnny growls.

“‘Get tough?’” you mock, anger churning your stomach. Then comes the laughs that are anything but joyous. “‘_Get tough_?!’ Ha ha _ha_, that’s a good one! But whereas you have your fancy trident and Shyster has his adaptability, I have nothing but this stupid, broken body! For _fuck’s sake_, every _day_ is a struggle…!”

Geno’s words flash to the forefront of your mind but you ignore them; you’re already too hurt to even _think_ about that.

Your fingers find themselves white-knuckled and clenched. You’re shaking but you don’t know if it’s because of the sobs or the anger; all you know is that you’re spilling _way_ too much of your personal luggage to this arrogant bastard.

“Don’t tell me yer so pathetic you can’t even stand up fer yourself,” Johnny muses, golden eyes still narrowed. “An’ here I was thinking you had a backbone after all.”

“What’s there to defend?” you quip humorlessly. “That I’m only good for the foreknowledge I have? That I have to rely on someone else to do anything about all _this_—?” You wave your hands around to get the point across before sighing. “I never wanted any part of this; _still_ don’t.”

Johnny hums. “Yet you remain steadfast in stayin’ by yer pal’s side.”

_He’s the only person I have left_. But you narrow your eyes and ignore the burning wetness dripping down your face. “I’m selfish. The only thing I care about is if he stays by my side. And if he’ll stay only because I’m useful, then that’s fine. Maybe then—” _Maybe then I’ll be wanted_.

“...I won’t be alone ever again,” you finish. Perhaps the most shameful thing about your admission is the fact you feel no shame at all; you’re just _that_ selfish.

Johnny stares you down. “An’ yer fine with the way things are?”

Your lips wobble a bit but your silence is probably telling enough.

He openly scoffs. “You made a deal, an’ something tells me ye haven’t kept yer side of it.” You want to deny his claim because you technically have, but he bulldozes over you. “What have you done to deserve that Shy Guy’s loyalty?”

“...I already told you: nothing.”

“Then the deal ain’t fair.” Johnny’s yellow eyes narrow further. “An’ I don’t take kindly to those with no codes of honor.”

You sigh again. “So what do you want from me?”

The shark ignores your question while firing back one of his own. “Do ye want to stay by his side?”

You don’t even have to think. “Yes.”

Johnny approaches until the snout of his shark skin is inches from your face. Somehow you still can’t fathom what his true face looks like, hidden in the shadows of the shark’s maw. Blithely, he states, “Then you’ll have to _earn_ it.”

“Oh yeah?” you sneer. “And how should I go about that, exactly?”

Johnny rears back until he’s towering over you. Yellow eyes still trained on your shuddering form, he surmises, “From what me men have told me, that Shy Guy would do anythin’ if it meant keeping you well n’ alive.”

You purse your lips and resist the urge to roll your eyes; you’re far too tired to deal with this repetition of things said within the past several minutes. “Like I said, he’s just really stubborn when it comes to keeping his side of our deal.”

“An’ yer a fool to think ye can’t extend than same courtesy.”

“...what’s that even supposed to mean?” you grit out. “If you’re gonna say something, then just _say it_. You’ve already wasted too much of my time as is.”

“Yer a greedy one, and I can respect that—” Oh great, another tangent. “—but you’ve yet to properly command yer abilities. Interesting, seein’ as you cry about not bein’ able to help out yer pal yet could’ve at any point.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “Even if I do know what’s going on most of the time, my memory isn’t perfect—”

“I ain’t talking about that.”

Sniffling and hating the fact you’re an angry crier, you glare up at the shark and wait for him to go on about other unimportant things. Really, you would’ve preferred if he skewered you on that fancy trident of his if it meant you didn’t have to listen to his ramblings. Knowing your luck, maybe he’ll actually stab you soon enough.

Johnny says nothing, opting to stare down at you with slitted eyes. You feel like a specimen he’s internally dissecting and you hate how powerless your find yourself in these sorts of situations. If you could’ve done anything at all to help Shyster, then you _would have_—

Suddenly the captain barks out a guttural laugh and the pain nestled inside your skull spikes in tandem. You don’t even bother hiding your pained glare but he pays no mind, his eyes crinkling down at you.

“Ye call yerself a seer, yet you’ve been nothing but blind.”

You get the distinct impression you’ve been had. It’s all too similar to the variety of times a pesky star spirit hints or even outright reveals he knows more about your situation than you yourself. Now the only thing to do is either demand answers of wait for Johnny to divulge them himself.

He makes the decision for you.

Placing his hook beneath his chin, Johnny states, “I don’t fancy myself as no mage, but I can recognize one of my own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, page breaks are back.
> 
> Sorry for a late-ish update; lots of stuff happened last week! Also busted my butt rushing through _Pokemon Shield_ so I could go back to focusing on this, lol. <strike>Already hunted for my favorite gen 8 pokemon/shiny, Falinks! Now onto the next hunt, ha ha...</strike>
> 
> Hopefully you'll enjoy this roller-coaster of a chapter...? I dunno, but I'm a firm believer that if the characters aren't really moving _physically_, then they better be moving _emotionally_. So expect more drama, _ha ha_!


	9. Stormy Waters Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader processes their emotions about as well as a dumpster fire can mitigate its own stench. Which is to say, not at all.

“_Bullshit_.”

Wiping your eyes, you further assert, “There’s no way I have magic. Even if I somehow _did_, don’t you think I would’ve known by now?”

Because really, why would you suddenly be a mage? You’re from an entirely different world where magic is fiction...y’know, like _Super Mario RPG_ is. It’s not like you’ve been granted magic just because you’re a self-insert...right?

“I be many things,” Johnny says, “but I am no liar.”

You don’t say anything because you _can’t_. You know he wouldn’t spout lies unnecessarily if at all - he always seemed to be the straight-forward type - but _you_? Being a _mage_? It sounds way too good to be true—_and_ too convenient. And that’s not taking into account how nonsensical it would be for a normal human to suddenly be capable of slinging around spells like some sort of...RPG character. Right.

...you’re not _technically_ a character, are you…? Maybe you still qualify as some sort of NPC?

Barely managing to hold yourself from the edge of hysterics, a giggle pushes past your frantic heart and into the silence. It’s the only sound you’re able to make before the pounding in your head causes you to claw at your temples once again. At least that’s what you tell yourself while more tears fall, the blood rushing through your ears now deafening.

Johnny’s voice somehow breaks through the muddled air. “You’ve no one to blame but yourself for failing yer friends.”

Your head feels fit to burst from the sudden slew of rage that washes over you. A familiar darkness closes in on your vision, but you know you’re far too angry to think coherently; the only thing you can do is feel. And everything _hurts_.

Because you knew from the onset you were nothing _but_ a liability. You’ve never been anything but a liability, with your fragile body and even weaker mind. Your life was nothing special; there was never any fanfare, no celebration because there was never anything _to_ celebrate. You’re just some idiot who’s okay with being nothing more than a shadow compared to everyone else’s brilliance.

And that hurts because all you ever wanted is to _be_ wanted.

Not even slapping on a smile or pretending you weren’t falling apart at the seams could garner genuine affection. If anything, all you got for your efforts was pity or scorn for playing the part of a fool. You were made to feel like you had to defend the space you took up just by existing.

But if anyone ever decided to stick around, even if only because of your act, well...it would be enough. It would be enough to stave off the emptiness inside.

And if that person happened to be a common enemy in a popular video game universe? Anyone’s better than no one, regardless of whether or not they ever really cared about you. And if you’ve somehow dragged them down further than you anticipated? That you could have been helping them all along...?

Maybe everyone who never believed in you had merit after all.

Johnny makes himself known, even against the roaring tides of rage pulsing through your skull. “At this rate, I’ll be surprised if he sticks by yer side any longer. Ye deserve to be alone.”

The carefully constructed dam _breaks_.

Something scalding and bitter alights inside and you don’t bother to try and contain the newfound current. Instead you allow it to flow through, crashing and pulling and uncontrollable as a reservoir that’s finally been uncaged.

The words claw their way up your throat, tearing into it as they go.

“_SHUT UP_…!”

All that pent up anger and resentment now has a suitable target so you hold nothing back. The hatred courses through you like a turbulent river unleashed and you don’t even try to swim against the current.

Then again, it’s not like you’re expecting that pent up frustration to physically manifest in the form of glowing. But so lost in your anger are you that the fact is pushed aside like some peripheral observation. So you allow that blue glow to consume you, body and mind until the feverish anger washing over you is finally flung away—directly at Johnny.

_Schwing_!

Through your muddied vision, you watch Johnny deflect...whatever it was you just conjured up and hurled at him. Something cracks in the background but neither of you pay attention, not even with the door bursts open alongside a cacophony of yells.

“Capt’n! What’s—_Sharkbait_?! Wh—”

“What’s all th’ ruckus?!”

The abrupt rush of anger recedes until you’re left more tired than before, regardless of the headache pounding away. Falling back onto the stool and finally realizing Stitches, Stripes and Shyster are here, you scrub furiously at your face.

Through the haze, you register Stripes rushing over to Johnny’s side while both Stitches and Shyster crowd you. You may be tired but what shreds of your dignity command you to keep hiding your tear-stained face from the Shy Guy; it doesn’t work.

Shyster’s eyes narrow dangerously before he whips around and levels his glare at Johnny. “What the hell’s your problem?! I oughta—”

Johnny cuts him off, low voice rising until his rumbling laughter fills the room.

After a tense moment where you can feel Shyster’s rage whilst both Stitches and Stripes hover about unsure, Johnny’s laugh peeters out. Despite being pinned under the Shy Guy’s glare, Johnny hardly pays him any mind, instead narrowing his eyes at you.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he states blithely. “That be a shoddy Diamond Saw if I ever saw one, but still strong enough to nearly knock me down.”

_Diamond Saw_…? Oh, right; isn’t that a spell in _Super Mario RPG_ or something? And can’t Johnny…? Ugh; your head hurts too much to take this all in right now. All you want to do is wash yourself down and sleep for the next week. It’s not just because you’ve proven Johnny correct and that nothing makes sense anymore, nope.

“What? Ye tellin’ me that it was Sharkbait who broke those barrels?” Stripes looks between Johnny and you but receives no confirmation either way.

Instead, Johnny takes a single step forward and Shyster immediately plants himself in front of you. Johnny barely glances down at the Shy Guy before pinning you beneath his gaze once more.

“‘Sharkbait,’ is it? Aye, a fittin’ name,” Johnny comments before saying, “tell me something: what did usin’ magic feel like?”

You don’t immediately respond, too tired to care about vocalizing how tired you are. But the moment Johnny’s eyes dart down to Shyster, subtly lifting his trident to impale the Shy Guy, your anger floods your body once more. Faintly, you register pale blue light emanating from you but you’re too focused on the two sawblade-like shapes hovering below your hands; you may be furious but you still don’t want to hit Stripes, still near the captain.

Shyster immediately jumps to the side and his stoic mask betrays nothing, but his surprise is clear as day. Johnny’s eyes narrow into what you can only describe as victorious.

Pulling his trident back, Johnny lifts his hook to rest beneath his chin. “...so that how it be. _Yar har harr_, ye should abandon that mask of yers more often, _Sharkbait_.”

...well, at least you know where Stitches gets his condescending attitude from.

Most of the resulting tension evaporates once Johnny turns his back on you. Puzzled but still somewhat angry, you unwittingly maintain the two sawblade-circlet things—_Diamond Saws_ whilst the captain returns to his desk. You also notice how unwilling Shyster is to get any closer, likely as a result of the spinning spell still in your grasp.

“Magic, huh,” he mutters thoughtfully before looking up at you. “Calm down and the spell will go away.”

You try to obey, slowing your breathing and whatnot. After a bit the two sawblades disperse in a flurry of what looks like snow and your relief is enough that you sag back onto your stool.

Once he’s comfy, Johnny taps his against the wooden tabletop, garnering your attention. “Men—” Here both Stripes and Stitches immediately turn to and await Johnny’s next words. “—starting at first light t’morrow, take this here Shy Guy to our weapons’ storage. And Sharkbait—”

You and Shyster share a quick look.

“—yer with me.”

*** * * * * * ***

It’s been several days since you’ve been taken under Johnny’s wing; er, fin. And you were right; Diamond Saw is a spell he’s capable of performing. Being the seasoned mage he is, his actually resemble the instricate, snowflake-like circlets they are in the game. Even though you’ve mostly mastered conjuring up and hurling your own version of the spell, they resemble crude buzzsaws more than anything. “Blunt and to the point,” he had said, “much like ye be.”

But what came as a surprise was the fact you could also cast other, arguably cooler spells. During your first lesson when you had still been searing mad at the shark, he had said some choice words about you not trying hard enough and you subsequently blew up in his face—literally. Turns out you can also use Yaridovich’s infamous Water Blast. Sure, using it leaves you way more tired than if you use Diamond Saw, but _explosions_.

“—and that’s how I spontaneously decided to impersonate swiss cheese,” you say, pausing to take a meaty bite out of your slab of roasted cod. Swallowing, you idly pick at the multitude of bandages wrapped around your arms and legs. “So take note: exploding magical buzzsaws at point blank is a good way to bleed fast and die faster.”

Shyster scowls at you from the foot of your crate while both Stripes and Stitches share a look.

Rubbing an arm over his mask, the Shy Guy groans. “_Stars_, why did I ever think you flinging around magic would be anywhere _close_ to a good idea?”

“Oh, hush,” you chastise, popping in another bite. “Look at the bright side; I’m not completely and utterly useless now! I can help you fight!”

Shyster sighs. “You were never useless. Besides, you can’t just fling spells around left and right; conserving your magic is crucial—”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah; I know, I know...but, c’mon. I can _explode_ things. How can I ever resist the temptation?”

You giggle at the Shy Guy’s resultant glare. “And I can take away your magic with some of my own. Beyond that, I resist the urge to forcibly knock you out every day—”

“A shame, really. It’d be useful for my insomnia.”

Apparently that’s where the conversation ends because Shyster shuts up, tearing away at his own food with a vigor. Still, his eye holes remain narrowed so you and the sharks share a round of laughter, even as the Shy Guy curls in on himself in obvious frustration.

“_Yar har harr_, we’ve got a live one here!” Stitches crows before taking a swig of his root beer. “Ye both be short and prickly; makes watchin’ over you pair of hooligans worth it!”

Stripes lets loose a howling laugh. “‘Tis like th’ two were made fer one another, aye matey?”

An abrupt fit of sputtering and choking comes from the foot of your crate. You glance down and yup, Shyster’s clearly having trouble breathing if his twitchy movements and breathless gasps are anything to go by. Stranger yet is the distinct pinkish hue rising to where Shyster’s cheeks are and—_Shy Guys have blood_?

“_Wh—what_?” Shyster finally spits out. “If you mean being a _pain_ in my _ass_—”

“But of course!” You reposition yourself until you’re reclining back, smug grin splitting your face. “‘Tis I, the sire of stupidity, the apotheosis of assholery, the emperor of idiocy—_ow_!”

You shoot a quick look down at the Shy Guy and rub away the stinging of his slap. Shyster’s mask returns to its normal, colorless pallor, but his glare is still firmly in place when he snarks, “Why do I even bother with you?”

“Aww, c’mon,” you grin again, “you heard Stripes; we’re made for each other, _ha ha_!”

You can’t help but laugh at how Shyster’s now slapping both arms over his reddening face; this is pretty much the only time you’re seen him super embarrassed. In the background, Stripes makes a crude noise while Stitches shakes his head before gulping down the rest of his drink.

“Wow, you really _are_ a Shy Guy,” you snark, unable to help yourself. His response is to viciously grumble in his own tongue.

“And you’re an _idiot_,” Shyster finally seethes, no longer hiding the pink decorating his cheeks.

“Unfortunate for the both of us, I assure you.”

A crude snort redirects your attention to Stitches. The shark shrugs before saying, “At least ya admit it; let it be known it makes my job that much harder. Aye, but a challenge is always welcome as far as I see it. An’ if I’m bein’ honest here, watchin’ you two bicker is probably the best part of me day.”

“Agreed, matey!” Stripes chirps, setting down the cards in his fins. Grinning over at you, the red bandana says, “‘S a lot more excitin’ wit’ ya two around! You be like a part o’ th’ crew already, Sharkbait! _Yar har harr_…!”

Aaand now _you’re_ the one blushing. Something warm and giddy erupts in your chest, so you don’t even try to hide the undoubtedly dopey smile the feeling brings. “...so that means I have three babysitters, right?”

An ugly snort escapes you when Stitches’ single eyes narrows ever so slightly. “An’ just when I was gonna say ye should never change…”

The rest of lunch goes by in a similar matter, mainly you provoking Shyster and him snapping back at you in equal measure, much to the sharks’ amusement. And despite how tired you’ve been due to constantly training your magic underneath Johnny’s watch, a good meal and a few hours of relaxation do wonders for regaining any MP—wait; _FP_ you’ve used. Ah yes, video game logic at its finest.

“Oi Sharkbait—” You turn and look at Stitches, who...does the rough equivalent of drumming fingers on his table. “—ain’t th’ Capt’n waiting on you?”

You don’t even bother hiding the resultant grimace. “_Ugh_, don’t remind me; I swear the guy enjoys watching me suffer _way_ too much. Like, I perforated myself just a couple hours ago.” Sighing, you lament, “Guess it’s time for round two.”

Shyster scoffs below you. “Like you don’t enjoy causing extreme property damage with your fancy spells.”

Stripes winces and you shrug halfheartedly. In your defense, it’s not like you knew your piddly Diamond Saw could cleave through multiple barrels at once. Much less barrels used to store the pirate’s booze...including Johnny’s favorite drink that’s totally not wine. Man, cleaning up that mess took forever and you smelled rank even after a harsh scrub down.

Still, it _was_ pretty badass.

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Mace Guy,” you reply. Because after being given the okay to pilfer the pirates’ weapons storage, the Shy Guy decided against another slingshot-type weapon. Oh no; he had to choose one of those ball-and-chain things where the ball is covered with _spikes_. Y’know, like Bowser’s Chain Chomp except the later-game version. Or like the Mace Guys in _Yoshi’s Island_, but you digress.

Shyster shrugs. “You’ve got your magic and I’ve got another ranged weapon. If we’re lucky, we won’t destroy each other whenever we get into a fight. Knowing _you_, I don’t count on things being that easy.”

You roll your eyes before scooting off your crate. “Yeah yeah, practice makes perfect and all that. Welp, off I go. To _practice_.”

The last thing you hear are both Stitches and Stripes announcing their plans to spar with the Shy Guy. Considering how he’s now bickering about being called “shortstack,” you can only guess what a pissy Shyster is like with a mace.

Along the way to Johnny’s chambers, a few Greapers hanging around spot you. Offering the small ghosts a tired smile, you fall into step with them and begin chatting them up. You complain about asinine things that don’t really bother you - mainly your grueling training - but words to fill the silence is better than nothing. Besides, the ghosts seem to appreciate it since they’ve never once antagonized, much less pranked you so far.

“They seem to get along with ye.”

You startle a bit and see Johnny already outside his door. The man says nothing but casts a lingering look at the few Greapers still hovering about you. They don’t say anything as per usual, but their counterence seems far more reserved around the pirate captain. Even in death they seem to respect him.

Shrugging, you state, “I dunno; I just blabber to them and they seem to enjoy it.”

Johnny huffs. “If they didn’t like ye they would make it known. Th’ dead don’t like company, as it were.”

You make a noncommittal hum in response. You wave a small goodbye to the Greapers as you make to follow the captain, likely to one of the storage rooms for your afternoon lessons. The small ghosts watch for a moment longer before disappearing, likely returning to the darker lower decks.

Although you still hold a minor grudge against the sharkman, you’ll be the first to admit you’ve steadily warmed up to him over the past few days. Least to say, he’s been nice enough to deliberately train you to hone your magic since you’re apparently overflowing with the stuff.

“How others never told ye I’ll never know,” he remarked after your first session. And that was after he indirectly called you an idiot for not knowing it yourself. Then again, not like you can explain you’re from an entirely different world where magic doesn’t _exist_, but whatever.

Johnny surprises you by leading you to the same splintered deck you used to scrub down almost religiously. There are a few red bandanas scattered about, probably keeping watch or something, but none of them immediately jump and wave after glancing your way like Stripes would.

Feeling a tad self conscious, you ask, “Sooo, uh, what’re we doing today?”

Johnny barely glances down at you. “T’day we spar.”

You openly blanche and try to stammer out excuses, because you are so not ready to spar against goddamn Johnny of all people; he’s a _boss_ for crying out loud! And you get self-inserts tend to train under the tutelage of a badass character, but _really_? If he doesn’t kill you then you’ll probably do it yourself, especially after the morning’s fiasco. Note to self: do _not_ try and deflect Diamond Saws with a pointblank Water Blast.

Unfortunately, Johnny wasn’t joking; not like he would, but that’s besides the point. The point _being_—

“Son of a—_augh_!”

You trip over the slick wood - mopped earlier most likely - and land painfully on your backside. Then again, it’s much preferable compared to the two snowflake circlets that just whizzed through the spot where your head was seconds earlier.

A few of the bandanas watching snicker, but you hurriedly sit up and glare at Johnny. “What was—you could’ve _killed me_!”

The captain barely glances down at you when he approaches. “Ye need more practice. At this rate, ye’ll be fish food when met with a real challenge.”

“‘Real challenge?’ I—hold on; I feel like you’re implying something that I don’t know about.”

Impassive as ever, the sharkman’s yellow eyes flit down before he uses the butt of his trident to smack your sore leg. You retract the appendage with a hiss, but still look up when he says, “Well I’ll be, the seer shows some foresight after all. I sent me men to have a looksee at earnin’ some coins, and I expect those coins.”

Rubbing your throbbing knee, you can’t help how your face contorts to show how confused you are. “Uh, you mean the casino?”

Johnny squints his eyes. “Aye. You lot will leave in th’ morning.”

“Woah, woah, _woah_,” you say before your mind can even process the implications of that statement. This, unfortunately, results in you going stream-of-consciousness on him. “Hold up; you mean me and—and Shyster are gonna go to Grate Guy’s casino - which is, uh, difficult to say the least - with Stitches and Stripes; er, the blue and red bandana looking after us? And when I just started learning magic like, three days ago? Isn’t—doesn’t that count as, I dunno, a risk to the workplace? Or would it be to other employees...Still, isn’t it a _bit_ soon—_ouch_!”

“Quit yer yapping.” Johnny retracts the butt of his trident again. “Ye will never learn unless you try. An’ didn’t you say ye’d be willing to do anything to repay that Shy Guy fer carrying you both so far?”

_That_ shuts you up fast.

Your fingernails bite into the flesh of your palm. It becomes more of a struggle when Johnny continues on to say, “Unless ye’ve wasted me time by going back to being the spineless coward you were.”

“I—no!” You bite your lip and refuse to meet Johnny’s stare. “I still want—no, I _need_ to help him; in any way I can, s-so—”

“Then _prove_ it. You’ve got two feet; learn to stand up on ye own.”

Hastily wiping at your eyes - _even though they’re dry, damnit_ \- you clamor back upright, despite the ache in your knee. It’s only then, still wrapped in bandages and sweaty from flinging around magic, do you meet the pirate captain’s eyes.

Johnny surveys you for a moment. “Good. But it ain’t me you need to repay.”

And with that he turns, cape rustling from the movement. Without even looking back at you, he states, “That’ll do it fer now. You be dismissed, Sharkbait.”

Just as he’s about to descend into the lower deck, you hurriedly call out to him. He pauses long enough for you to stammer over your turbulent thoughts until he eventually commands to you speak or stop wasting his time. In the end, your tangled tongue does successfully convey your central thought, simple as it might be.

“...thanks.” You square your shoulders when he glances back at you. “For everything, I mean.”

Johnny huffs in what you think is amusement. “That it? Truth be told, it’s nice to be sparring with someone new; even better if that fabled plumber shows up on me ship.”

“When,” you automatically correct. You’re unable to keep the smile at bay when this nets a small laugh from the shark.

“Only time will tell, Sharkbait,” is all he replies before disappearing into the hull of the Sunken Ship.

*** * * * * * ***

So maybe you got kicked out of Grate Guy’s casino. Big whoop.

...okay, so you weren’t technically asked to leave the premises which, like literally every other location here in good ol’ video game land, is a _lot_ bigger in person. But the fact remains security asked you to leave the central floor where all the gambling takes place, so here you are, sitting at a table in the cafe section.

Grumbling over your glass of juice - because if you wanted to stay you had to be a paying customer - you look over the floor. Despite how meager it appeared in-game, the grandiose room is filled with dazzling lights and hearty music which seems to switch between jazz and some other, faster-paced genre. Even if you’re old enough to enter these sorts of places, you’ve never actually done so because 1) you’re not keen on losing all your money and 2) hanging around tipsy people isn’t really something you’d want to voluntarily do.

Taking another sip, you glance out over the floor and spot your rag-tag gang sitting at the poker table. Or at least you think it’s one because they’re all holding cards and refusing to look at each other. That and you might have heard some other Toad patrons complaining about how unfair it is to play against a Shy Guy.

Another Toad in a fancy black dress walks past, bussing a tray of empty champagne flutes. You try not to curl in on yourself, still wearing the same get-up you’ve adhered to since leaving the Mushroom Kingdom; a striped tee and shorts isn’t something you’d call formal, much less business casual. Looking young enough to pull off the look certainly didn’t help when trying to get into the place. In the end, Grate Guy had to come and check you in personally because you’re apparently “a friend of his brother’s” or some such nonsense.

_Tch_, the stupid Bright Card didn’t even work.

Sure, some of the other patrons give you lingering stares when they pass by, dressed to impress as they are. Then again, you wearing stripes fits in with the pirate aesthetic both Stitches and Stripes have going on. Not like anyone’s gonna try and give two sharks any flak.

Besides, you’re too dang tired to even try and play some games; even Grate Guy’s “look the other way” minigame isn’t worth the effort of finding him, much less playing _and winning_ 100 times. What even is that super rare item he gives you? A Meteor Egg or something…? _Bah_; it’s just an infinite use Rock Candy.

Regardless, you’re hoping this place isn’t as rigged as it seems like in-game.

Turns out you don’t even have to go and find Grate Guy because, lo and behold, he shoves himself in your vision. After blocking your view of your friends and taking the seat across from you, the clown grins easily at you.

“Well, well,” he remarks, “who do we have here? How are you enjoying my business, little seer?”

Trying to not let your general fatigue take over your vocal processes, you resist the heavy urge to roll your eyes. “We met for, like, five seconds before I got chucked off the top of Booster’s Tower. And the place is surprisingly bustling; unfortunately it’s not my kinda scene. Sorry.”

“Quite the terse one I see,” Grate Guy observes. Another Toad walks past and offers the casino’s owner a flute of champagne before bowing when the clown smiles at her. Once she leaves after shooting you a curious look, he returns his attention to you. “I can see why my brother is so enthralled with you.”

Don’t say it, _don’t say it_. “...is that supposed to be a compliment ooor…?” _Dang it_.

But Grate Guy merely chuckles. “_Ah ha_, you really are a fiery one. Well, it makes no difference to me. You see, I am very curious which may or may not be due to my brother’s constant ramblings about you.”

“...uh, that’s…” _He’s the head of the house, for god’s sake_! “Not gonna lie; that’s pretty creepy.”

The clown takes a sip of his drink. “All in good fun, I’m sure. But I’m afraid I also find myself interested in you—rather, where you come from. I’m sure you’ve noticed how startlingly rare it is for humans to be prancing out and about.”

Grate Guy tilts his head to the central floor and you don’t have to see where he’s coming from: nothing but Toads, Moles and other normal _Mario_-type characters as far as you can see. Normal save for any other humans.

Attempting to control your face from showing how much your brain is currently going ‘oh shit,’ you hum thoughtlessly. “Sure, but have you considered there's actually a good share of humans? Like, there’s obviously Mario, Luigi, Princess P—Toadstool and—oh yeah! And there’s Princess Daisy, and also Wario, Waluigi—” Do they know about Rosalina? What about Pauline? E. Gadd?

“—I’m sure there’s more, but that’s all I can think of right now,” you finish, thumbing the bottom of your glass.

“Yes, but there is a rather obvious difference between you and the likes of them, seer.” Grate Guy takes another sip and you nearly burst into a fit of nervous laughter because you’re just _now_ noticing how much he sticks out in his star-printed purple pajamas.

But he goes on, saying, “Sure, some may come and go while others have made their nests here, but they’ve all been raised in these lands. They have homes here, ties which are obvious.”

The clown smiles at you and you struggle to keep the anxiety from showing. “From what I’ve gathered, you have neither a home nor anything tying you here; you’re a complete enigma to me. And that—_that_ is what interests me the most.”

“Is—is this the mercenary t-talking?” you quip, partially to reel in some of the stress and partially to turn the topic over to him. Because really, how would he know where all the _Mario_ cast was born and lived until adulthood?

“A little bit, I’ll admit,” Grate Guy says. “I suppose I’ll give credit where credit is due: that strange animated doll—_ah_, judging by that face you know of him. Of course you would, since he was so obstinate about your wellbeing after our brief meeting. After all, why else would he call you _his_ seer?”

If you try hard enough, you can barely make out the stricken eyes reflected in your juice.

A sigh across the table. “I suppose I’ll stop with the antics.” _Good_.

“You’re not from this world.”

A delirious giggle manages to escape your tight throat. Is this how Knife Guy put it together? “_Eh heh he_. Wh—_how_…? Th-that doesn’t even make any s-sense…!”

Thrumming his gloved fingers across the tabletop, Grate Guy simply states, “That doll made it no secret he isn’t from this world. When he subjected you to that same mindset, even going so far as you claim ownership over your seer abilities, it seems obvious that the two of you are linked. And judging by your reaction, I can safely say I’m right.”

“Like I already said, you don’t know me well enough to judge that.”

“That may be,” the clown admits, “but you are nothing if not obvious; your face is like an open book. Besides, I can assure you my dear brother wouldn’t bother with you unless you were easy to provoke.”

The carefully constructed barricade you’ve had since you woke up just yonder of the Mushroom Kingdom’s walls begins to crumble.

Gripping your glass, you look down but fail to really see anything. “...I guess when you put it like that.” Scoffing, you say, “I’ve never been that great at keeping secrets, and I guess that explains it. Then again _I know_, I just—”

“It’s not something that’s either believable,” Grate Guy supplements, “or it’s something you don’t want others to believe.”

You say nothing but that’s enough of an answer.

The clown sighs before taking another sip of his champagne. “I’m no psychiatrist - no one could pay me enough for such a boring job - but suffice to say I can get where you’re coming from. It’s hard enamoring yourself to others when you are so different; after all, it’s much like me putting on a show for an audience! Yet that’s where our shallow similarities end. Judging from what you’ve attested yourself, it seems you aren’t here on your own volition—”

“I can’t go back home, yeah.”

“—and that you’re meant to aid that animated doll, as suggested by him.” Grate Guy taps the table again. “Though it seems like you don’t reciprocate that take on your situation.”

You hesitate briefly, swirling the remains of your drink. “I...no, not really. But I don’t really have a choice.”

“Then make the best of it!”

You feel yourself blink slowly and try to ignore the abrupt flare of indignation. Unfortunately you can’t completely subdue it. You grit out, “It’s not that easy. That’s like saying because you know you’re depressed then it means you can easily fix it. It—it’s _really_ not like that. Just because you _know_ doesn’t mean—” You breathe out, slow and steady. “—doesn’t mean you’re magically cured.”

Grate Guy’s flippant tone doesn’t change. “My my, that’s quite a specific example.”

He ignores your heated glare and explains, “But you’re right; acknowledging a problem and all its burdens doesn’t absolve you of the problem itself. Cause and effect, after all! Even so, you’ll never move past it unless you put in the effort and try!”

You’re a little bit afraid you’ll break the glass with how tight your grip seems to be.

“I _am_ trying,” is all your stunted voice is able to manage.

“Then that’s a start!” Grate Guy states. Lowering his voice despite the fact no one can overhear due to the music and general murmur, he says, “But everything has a cause. Trying for trying’s sake means nothing; a mask doesn’t fool anyone—ah, unless you’re a Shy Guy, I suppose. Regardless, there _must_ be a reason _why_ you’d put in any effort in the first place. Aaaand…”

The clown’s smile widens ever so slightly before he turns around in his seat. “I’m willing to bet the reason is sitting over at the poker table.”

You look past his obnoxious wardrobe to see Shyster still playing cards, head low and steadfastly ignoring everyone else.

You hum an affirmative, all the while you wonder why it’s so easy to just...let it out on an essential stranger. One you’d label as trustworthy, but a stranger nonetheless.

“That’s quite simple, really—” _Oh shit, did you just say that out loud_? Grate Guy continues, unperturbed. “—You don’t care how I view you! But you certainly do when it comes to that spunky little Shy Guy. The way my brother made it sound, the two of you are as thick as thieves! Considering your current company, it’s quite a literal case too, _ha ha_! Still I wonder: am I correct in assuming he knows nothing of your predicament?”

You swirl your leftover juice. “...no.”

“I see, I see! He’s helping defy your fate whether he knows it or not. Interesting!”

“Don’t say it like that; he’s—he’s not some tool I’m using for my own gain or anything.” That may have been the case in the very beginning, but Shyster’s your best friend now, damn it. “I just—I’m trying to help him as much as he’s helped me, I guess. That’s it.”

The clown turns around and blocks your view of the floor once more. “A truly heartfelt motive; bravo! And yet I’m still curious as to why you denied to help that doll when he made it explicit you are here for that very reason.”

Your mouth opens in immediate defense but nothing comes out, because what can you say? That you’re a coward who runs away from their responsibilities in the hopes they’ll fix themselves eventually? That if you had joined Geno then him looking out for you out of responsibility is no different when compared to the deal you initially struck with Shyster? That you’re so selfish you’re willing to let this world stay in shambles if it means you will finally have some semblance of peace?

Your hands find themselves retracting until your nails are digging into your thighs. “...I don’t know. Maybe—maybe I just want my time here to _not_ be scripted. I dunno. But everything already feels like a dream I’ll wake up from any minute and it’s—I hate it, this feeling; _I hate it_.”

You’re reluctant to voice the next part of your rant, but that dam has fallen long ago. “I...I just wanted to _be_ wanted. At least that’s what I thought, but—I guess I wasn’t okay with just that: being wanted not out of genuine concern or whatever, but because of obligation. Because I’m ‘useful.’ But I’m not; _I’m not_.”

Something presses against the back of your eyes and you stifle the feeling as best you can. “And I want that to be okay. I want others to like me even though I’m not—that I don’t…”

You trail off, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and just so, so _tired_. You don’t make a habit of spilling your guts, but it’s an arduous process regardless.

Grate Guy slams the door shut on your internal ramblings by laughing, hearty and loud.

“_Hee hee hee_…! Oh, this is _rich_. Little seer,” the clown tips his head back, “you already have what you want.”

He shifts until you can once again spot your friends - _friends_ \- seated around the poker table, still invested in their game.

Despite your best efforts, a few tears fall.

Grate Guy hums. “I have no idea how you and your Shy Guy companion met, but my previous comment still stands; I have little doubt he’ll stick around you for the long-haul. And if my sources on those pirates are of any importance, then you’ve acquired a couple more loyal friends, despite the fishy beginning, _ha ha_! Congratulations!”

You furiously swipe at your eyes, all the while you war internally. Your mind is desperately coming up with multiple reasons why they don’t _really_ care about you, why there’s no reason _why_ they’d like you, among other self-derogatory things. Despite the second-hand nature of the comments, you _know_ Grate Guy is right; why else would Shyster continually badger you about talking to him whenever you’re upset? Why else would both Stitches and Stripes look out for your emotional wellbeing when they didn’t have to? Your emotional liability shouldn’t matter to them.

It feels like your heart’s breaking. Even if you know they care about you, you can’t stay; that’s not how _this works_—

“Come now,” the clown says, reaching over and patting your shoulder, “no need to make a scene; after all, that’s my job! On a more serious note, accept the facts and move on! Life won’t wait for you to catch up, you know.”

“E-easier said than done,” you reply, still scrubbing your face of any teary residue.

Grate Guy finishes the rest of his champagne before standing up. Glass in hand, he pats your shoulder again before stating, “Cherish them while you still can. After all, we all have roles to fulfill and I have a feeling that yours is the central one, little seer.”

A delirious laugh bubbles up. “I—thanks. I guess I needed that.” _Pretty sure I like you more than your brother_.

“_Ha ha_! I’ll be _sure_ to inform him; no hard feelings!” You...said that last part out loud again, huh. “It seems your friends are done pillaging my casino for treasure, so this is farewell. Until next time, little seer!”

You watch him until his star-printed clothes leave your sight, despite him sticking out like a sore thumb otherwise. You kinda regret not asking about the Meteor Egg or whatever his exclusive item is, but you’re positive he wouldn’t have given it to you without playing his tedious game.

Sure enough, a minute or so later, your three friends stroll up to your table. Hopefully they don’t notice you had a small fit—

“‘Ey, what’s wit’ yer eyes, Sharkbait? Ye don’ look so good, _arr_.” Well, thanks for pointing it out to everyone else, Stripes.

You groan and decide against speaking about your conversation with Grate Guy; again, breaking the fourth wall isn’t something you want to bring up with these guys. So you sigh and explain your qualms about how tired you are because really, getting to the casino _was_ torture. You shudder thinking about the way back.

“Hmm...maybe it’d be useful if ye and th’ shortstack trained together from now on,” Stitches supplies. “Havin’ long-ranged fighters is nice an’ all, but only when ye don’t get in the way o’ the close-ranged fighters. Like me and Stripes, here.”

You wince and share a quick look with Shyster. “Probably. And, uh, sorry for nearly beheading you…?”

The blue bandana scoffs. “I’m jus’ lucky I normally fight wit’ others.”

Shyster pats the head of the mace sticking out of his belt. “We can make it even if I aim for your snout, patches. Pretty sure my aim is better than theirs, at the very least.”

The two argue amongst themselves while Stripes sidles up to you. Leaning down he whispers, “Stitches jus’ be mad he didn’t win much. Or at all, _har harr_! Speakin’ o’ which…”

A few more minutes of back and forth ensue until Stripes finally gets them to focus on cashing in their earnings. It doesn’t take long before the four of you are leaving the massive casino with a few pouches full of coins. While both Stripes and Shyster making loads of coins isn’t surprising, what _is_ surprising is the fact that the sky is already turning orange. Last you checked it was barely past noon!

“...great. Hitting those stupid bees is hard enough in broad daylight, but at _night_? This is gonna be a _nightmare_.” No duh, Shyster.

“Not if we hurry,” is all Stitches says before hoisting up his spear and leading the way.

You look down at your trembling knee and hope the journey back to the Sunken Ship will be a lot smoother. If there’s a silver lining, it’s that the juice you had managed to replenish a good part of your magic—FP. Right. Forgot that’s a thing in the midst of becoming a self-insert.

If anything, it should be easier than finding the dang casino in the first place, right?

*** * * * * * ***

It wasn’t.

You and Shyster barely manage to make it back - or in your case, limp - to your shared room before another blue bandana you’ve never seen tells you that Johnny wants to see you guys. It’s only when he leaves that you and Shyster openly groan before navigating your way through the underbelly of the ship.

“Where’re those two fish anyway?” the Shy Guy gripes. “Thought they were supposed to guide us around like watchdogs and all that.”

You see a couple Greapers hanging out near an upcoming hallway. You barely have it in you to wave at them before marching past, trying not to make fun of Shyster for avidly avoiding them like the plague.

“Probably reporting to Johnny,” you say. “I mean, we _did_ go to the casino to make some money.”

Shyster scoffs. “Gambling’s fun and all, but if you want _quick_ cash, it’s faster to just steal from merchants going through Rose Way. Then there’s all those chests…”

“My, my, aren’t you the little thug.”

“Don’t make me crush your toes into oblivion.”

“Ah, _memories_.”

Even if your sense of direction is pretty dang bad - curse you, Land’s End! - you’ve walked to Johnny’s chambers enough to know the way by heart. Hopefully this time won’t end in him wiping the floor with you via spontaneous sparring like the previous day.

Giving a few taps to the wooden door, you state, “It’s Sharkbait” before strolling in.

Like you expected, both Stitches and Stripes are quietly muttering amongst themselves while Johnny sits at his usual desk. Once he notices you, the red bandana shoots you a quick grin before waving heartily. Stitches nods once in greeting before he turns his attention to the captain, who’s sorting through piles of coins. Judging by the amount of big coins compared to the smaller ones, seems like both Shyster and Stripes racked up quite a bit of cash.

There aren’t any chairs out so you and Shyster just stand there awkwardly in the ensuing silence. Well, mostly silence besides the sounds of coins being shifted over old wood with a hook.

“485.”

Johnny crosses his fins below his chin. He repeats, “485 coins. _Arr_, that be a success as far as I be concerned. Enough to barter fer new gill nets and supplies, at th’ very least.”

Johnny then peers over the desk to stare at Shyster, who shifts minutely before crossing his arms in what you think is defiance. The sharkman doesn’t seem to notice or care when he says, “It seems yer full o’ suprises for a Shy Guy. Keep it up and I may offer ye a spot on my crew, _yar har harr_!”

The tone is jovial for as much as it pertains to Johnny, but the presentation isn’t rhetorical. The fact he’s waiting for a response drills it in further. If anything, it feels like you’ve done a mental whiplash but you force yourself to remain stoic, even if it feels like you’ve been slapped.

Because the fact Johnny glanced at you before saying that goes to show this isn’t about Shyster’s reaction.

Looking over, Stitches is visibly surprised and Stripes looks giddy at the prospect. That feeling intensifies. You barely have it in you to glance down to see Shyster’s reaction. In the end, it’s more of a passing tilt of your head since you’re too much of a coward to look down.

This isn’t about you, but you still can’t seem to wrap your head around that.

In the end, it would make sense if Shyster did end up joining the pirates. After all, they get along swimmingly - ha ha - enough that you don’t really fit in yourself. Being a third, or in this case, fourth wheel isn’t something you’re not used to, so that’s whatever. He’s not obligated to stay by your side if he’s found something else more worth his time. It’s not like you were ever supposed to come to this world in the first place. At this rate, he’s only chasing—

Ah, the inevitable drama of the self-insert questioning where they will end up after the main adventure is over.

“Nah.”

You keep looking ahead, despite the urge to see whatever Shyster’s doing with such a flippant tone. If anything, you’d guess he’s still crossing his arms and staring ahead at Johnny, who narrows his eyes slightly.

But the Shy Guy goes on to simply state, “Don’t get me wrong, you guys are my kind of crowd if I cared about that sort of thing, but stayin’ here isn’t something I’m interested in. Plus I don’t see the need to hang around ghosts that look like me, so there’s that.”

Johnny hums thoughtfully. “Well, th’ offer still stands.”

Shyster doesn’t hesitate to reply, “Thanks, but no th—”

“Are you sure?”

_That_ seems to shut him up fast. And you by proxy; curse your fat mouth! Still reeling a bit from the fact you let that slip by despite wanting to keep your nose out of this, you shuffle in place. The fact Johnny’s eyes narrow further doesn’t help you feel reassured.

You barely have to strength to look down; it’s almost too much to bear. But you face the music and see Shyster giving you a silent, stoic look. Now more than ever, you wish you could pin what he’s feeling when his mask doesn’t move to show it.

Despite not even looking at either Johnny or your bandana pals, it doesn’t take a genius to know you’re the center of attention.

“I-I mean—” you stutter, keenly aware of the sensation of guilt; it this wasn’t real life, you’d think this is what it feels like to choose a wrong dialogue option. “—you seem to get along great with these guys; y-you have similar interests and they’re stronger and more capable than m—you know…! Being a pirate seems f-fitting, uh, for you...n-not that I’m implying anything!”

Wow, now it just feels like you’re failing some test Johnny implemented on a whim.

“Who knows; maybe you’d be happier staying here than—I dunno. Plus you’d also get, uhhh, more...experience?” _Ha ha_, making nonsensical puns whilst suffering immense anxiety! “_Aha_, m-maybe—you wouldn’t be at risk, what with my magic sawblades a-and explosions...either...”

Shyster’s mask remains indifferent compared to his tone. “You make it sound like you don’t want me around anymore.”

“I—_no_!” You wince; didn’t mean to shout. You wave your hands before crossing them over your chest; gotta have some self-control. “I just—you seem happier here than, than before. So…” You trail off, unsure of what to say.

“...I won’t deny that. Still, you make it seem like _you_ don’t belong here.”

You bite your lip and quell the unease; how right he is. You don’t belong here or anywhere. Whatever Geno or his Star Road did...bringing you here was a _mistake_.

Today was a long day, and being as tired as you are, you don’t even bother filtering your thoughts.

“I don’t.”

If what Grate Guy implied is true...if you really have close friends who you appreciate, then isn’t it selfish of you to continue hanging around them when you’re destined to leave their sides? These aren’t just some tags of data or pixels on a screen; these are all real people with depth and feeling. You can’t know for certain how your journey will end, but you _know enough_—

Isn’t it selfish of you to cling onto them knowing that they care? That they’ll care even after you’re gone…? That kind of hurt isn’t something you’d want to inflict on anyone, _especially_ those you consider friends. Must you bring them down even further than you already _have_...?

Being alone was always your lot in life, so why should it be any different now?

Fists clenched at your hips, you repeat, “I don’t belong here. I’m not—you heard Geno; I’m here to help him on his mission. But I can’t even do _that_ right; the one thing I can actually do to help and I—I ignore it. I ran away like I always do.” _Shut up, shut up; this isn’t about you_…!

Shyster’s voice cuts through the muddled words inside your head. “...is that what I am to you? ‘Running away’...?”

You reel back as if struck. But your eyes don’t drift down to the Shy Guy; instead they hone in on slitted yellow eyes. “...no. Not really. I—”

“What do you mean ‘not really?’”

You’d rather him curse you, spit on you, _anything_ instead of that dead, detached tone he just used. It makes your stomach twist in guilt. A fitting punishment, you suppose.

The spotlight’s on you when you’d rather curl up in a corner, never to see the light of day again. The overall fatigue of the day rushes over you, perishing any hopes of a coherent response.

“I...I guess—I won’t deny that’s how I felt in the beginning, but...I just—” You fight to keep your voice neutral, despite how tight your throat is. “...I didn’t want to be railroaded into something I never wanted. I didn’t—don’t want _this_ to be scripted. It’s stupid and selfish but it’s all I have left.”

Shyster shifts until you can barely make out the slitted eye holes of his mask in your peripheral. “What the hell kinda answer’s that?! If you’re gonna say something then _say it_—”

Something inside _snaps_.

Even if you can barely see past the mistiness of your eyes, you stare down at Shyster. “You were supposed to be my _freedom_! You were supposed to be my ticket away from—from all _this_! A-and I…! _I_—!”

_I don’t want to be alone because I’m scared_.

But you can’t choke the words out, no matter how hard you try. So you’re left openly blubbering, harshly scrubbing at you wet eyes in the vain hopes no one can see the building tears.

You hear Shyster sigh. It’s a small, quiet thing. “...this has to do with the things you don’t want to tell me, right?”

You nod. Another sigh.

“If it’s causing you this much distress,” he starts, tone remarkably soft compared to seconds earlier, “then maybe it’s better if you just tell me.”

You shake your head before admitting, “I can’t. _I can’t_.” _Because then everything is real_.

And you can’t risk thinking like that because you’ll just be hurt even more.

Belatedly, you recall your conversation with Shyster back at Booster Tower, how you had mocked fate. But your talk with Grate Guy only proves that it does exist; at least for you. He thought you to be the central part in everything, and if what Geno hinted at various times is true, then...there’s only one possible ending for you.

You never belonged here.

Then, inevitably, you must also leave.

The cruel reality is at odds with the dreamscape you’ve thought you’ve found yourself in.

That feeling you’ve had crawls down your spine and seeps into your core like oil, slick and uncomfortable. The room feels too crowded and too endless all at once, and the breath is ragged and hot inside your lungs. As soon as the first sob slips out, you excuse yourself with a palty “I’m sorry” before turning on shaking legs.

No one says anything as you slip out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ssssorry. Late update. 
> 
> Probably gonna keep the slow update schedule (one chapter per ~1.5 to 2 weeks) due to having a busy holiday season coming up. So, sorry again (in advance). <strike>That and I've only got a few more pre-written chapters (starting on 14, oof).</strike>
> 
> Anywho, hope you enjoy the drama!


	10. Sink or Swim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot finally catches up to reader, who isn't too sure how to feel about it.

The past few days have been awkward at best and downright awful at worst. If it wasn’t for all the Greapers you’ve been in the company of, you’d have probably gone mad from the isolation. Even now, as you sit nestled in the dark, damp corner of some hall, clutching onto one of the spectral Shy Guys, you can’t banish the sense of solitude.

You’re just a really dumb, really pathetic loser.

Then again, what else is there for you to do when Shyster seems hellbent on avoiding you as much as you avoid him? Stitches and Stripes speak with you whenever you cross paths, but in the end they hang around Shyster more than not. You hope the added time together will make Shyster stay here, with others who’ll actually appreciate him. And if you’re left to your lonesome, so be it.

“How odd ye get along better with the departed than yer live allies.”

You try to make your flinch subtle, but considering how easily Johnny snuck up on you, you doubt it works. Sighing, you look up at him. “What do you want?”

His yellow eyes don’t leave you, even as you shift to get more comfortable. Voice gravelly as ever, he mocks, “An’ here I was, thinking ye finally had the gall to get along with us. Given up already, have ye?”

The Greaper doesn’t seem to care even as your hold of them tightens. Careful of the small specter’s scythe-like appendages, you just shrug. If anything, you want to ask him why he’s decided to show his face - metaphorically, of course - to you days after the fact. You also want to ask him why he’s so hung up about that but realize you’d be a hypocrite if you did. Being silent and difficult it is, then.

Even though you’d rather him leave you and your bitterness alone, the pirate captain remains.

“Ye can’t run away forever.”

You purse your lips, ready to question what, exactly, he’s referring to. But you don’t because getting further on his bad side seems like a bad idea. Or, you like to tell yourself that because acknowledging the truth is...something you’d rather not do. Because then everything you’ve worked for is for nothing.

A shuddering breath forces itself out before you manage to croak out, “I know that.”

“Interesting,” Johnny comments. “Then why do ye keep pushin’ everyone else away?”

You’ve spilled your guts to a clown already, might as well make it even and do it again with a shark. Taking a breath, you state, “No one else deserves to put up with my bullshit; hell, even _I’m_ tired of the things I do.”

Johnny huffs. “An’ that’s where problems arise fer ye, Sharkbait. You don’t have any control.”

“‘Control?’” you repeat, failing to banish the frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to control my own stupid emotions when I’m not even sure _what_ I’m feeling?”

“It be a simple thing if yer willing to hear me out.”

The silence drags on until you realize that wasn’t another rhetorical question. Swallowing what scraps of pride you might’ve had, you offer a terse nod.

Johnny’s eyes never leave you, but they never narrow or otherwise show any discontent. “Control be a necessity in all things. Take a boat on th’ open sea; sometimes the current is merciless and ye have to learn to deal with it or get thrown overboard. Even when the waters seem calm ye can’t relax; the tides change all th’ time and ye have to be prepared. What you feel is no different.”

It takes a lot longer to unpack all that than you’d like to admit. Idly patting the hood of the Greaper still in your arms, you push back the ugly bitterness from showing too much in your response. “Okay. But that doesn’t really explain _how_ to go about it. Bottling it up isn’t working for me, obviously.”

The pirate captain doesn’t emote outwardly - kinda like dealing with Shyster, honestly - but you get the distinct feeling he’s unimpressed. Not too surprising, given it’s you.

“Workin’ just fine if ye want to cut ties,” Johnny states.

The Greaper in your arms has had enough, apparently. They wriggle in your grasp and you release them. They float up enough to stare at Johnny before looking back down at you. That distinct Shy Guy mask of theirs tilts ever so slightly before they fade, vanishing from sight. Well, there goes your sliver of comfort.

Sighing and collecting your thoughts, you explain, “When I said I didn’t belong, I _meant_ it. It’s—everything’s pretty much beyond my control.” You look up at the sharkman and his eyes narrow. You go on, saying, “That Star Piece of yours? Basically the only reason why I’m here at all. I’m supposed to help the guy collecting them, but...y’know, I already explained all this. I just don’t want to get puppeted around, but it looks like it’s gonna happen anyways.”

You hug your knees and stare ahead. “Shyster doesn’t—didn’t deserve to get used as an escape plan. He’s better off here, so yeah; if I push him away then so be it.”

Johnny stares for a moment longer. After assessing everything you said, he releases a low sigh. “Yer a fool.”

You shrug because hey, not like you don’t already know that.

“Ye said you be selfish,” Johnny finally states. It stings, but it’s nothing compared to what he says next. “It be clear as th’ water in the sun. Here ye are, wallowin’ in yer own shallow heartbreak without even considerin’ what you allies be feeling. Have ye even thought about what they want or are ye just tryin’ to keep ‘em at bay so _you_ don’t get hurt?”

“_Everything hurts_,” you hiss before you can stop it. Your nails dig into your knees as you seethe, “You think I asked for any of this? I don’t—I didn’t even get the chance to—!”

Your throat constricts until the rest of your words are violently cut off. Just when you thought you got it all out a few days ago. _Goddammit_…! Johnny remains impassive as ever when you finally regain your senses enough to continue, “It’s not fair. It’s not fair but I don’t have a _choice_—”

“You do.”

The abruptness causes you to look back up at Johnny only to see him glowering down. Repeating himself, he asserts, “You do but ye refuse to see it. Tell me, do ye think relying on others be a weakness?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!” you spit. “Not like you told me I need to get _stronger_ so I stop relying so much on Shyster. Not like you’re the captain and therefore the _strongest_—”

Johnny chooses the moment to lean down threateningly before he too seethes, “My point exactly. I be the captain of my crew; the men who I am responsible for and who answer to me not from fear of me strength, but from _loyalty_. They know I rely on them as much as the lot relies on me. Do ye know _why_?”

The sharkman resumes his upright position, pupils still slitted dangerously. “Because I trust them. It be as simple as that, and yet ye can’t seem to comprehend it.”

You watch Johnny sigh once again, craning his neck to stare at the flickering specters down the hall. Eyes never leaving them, he states, “Strength doesn’t come from power alone, but the bonds ye form. If ye think it’s weakness to rely on others, then yer doomed. Ain’t nothin’ worse than a link who doesn’t take part in th’ chain at all.”

How strangely apt that his analogy applies to you being a self-insert at large.

“...I get it. But I’m—I don’t _fit_,” you articulate harshly. Looking down at the cracked planks, you confess, “...I was never supposed to come here at all.”

Johnny shifts. “That may be, but yer here now. You be involved with everything even if ye don’t want to be.” He pauses and you hesitantly meet his gaze. “An’ if you truly be a seer, then you also have the power to change things.”

Your arguments are crumbling. Even so, your stubbornness refuses to yield. “You’re stronger than me, yet you’re not trying to change things.”

The captain shakes his head. “My responsibility be to me men first. Dealings with th’ outside world can wait if it means I won’t lose any more men than I already have.”

You wince. _Oh, right_…

“Beyond that, this ol’ ship is our home; it’s not much, but it be all we have left.” Here, he returns his attention to you and you feel so tiny under his callous stare. “I don’t know or care where ye came from, but this be yer home now.”

A Toad with bushy brows and a gray-spotted cap comes to mind. Idly, you recall the last conversation you had with Mr. Shroomby before you stepped out of his life, probably forever. Wasn’t he the first one to insinuate that you should leave with Shyster since this world is basically your home now…?

Johnny's yellow eyes paralyze you and you can’t find the strength to look away. “You _are_ home. An’ I ain’t talking about me ship.”

The stinging pain of your nails fades into the background as your heartbeat thunders inside your head.

His gaze softens, nearly immeasurably so, and it’s all you need to confirm your suspicion.

_He knows_.

You’re thankful the sharkman speaks, because your tongue feels far too heavy to do so. “If ye really be a seer, then you have the power to change th’ very things yer running from. Ye have the power to protect this place and th’ people living in it.”

Even if you’ve gone over the reasons why you refuse to accept responsibility internally, actually saying so is another thing entirely. So you fall back on the simpler explanation, saying, “If I really did change things, then my foreknowledge wouldn’t matter. I’d be useless since I couldn’t keep up with the changes.”

“Sharkbait.”

Johnny’s eyes refuse to budge from yours, but that serene calmness is still there. “Ye keep punishing yourself fer things out of your control, ‘specially when it involves that Shy Guy. Trust him and his decision to remain by your side, just as I do with me men. Control th’ connections you _have_.”

Your glare isn’t aimed at the sharkman. “But _you’re_ strong and _I’m_ not.”

Sighing, Johnny stares off into the darkness of the hallway. “You’ve barely been on-board for little over a week, yet I be a fool to not see the difference ye made. The bandanas who watch over you have been happier than I’ve seen in a long time, an’ the men we all lost finally have someone else t’ talk to. You’ve been formin’ bonds ever since ye arrived on me ship, and my crew be stronger for it.”

The captain looks back down at you. “Ye had no reason to humor them, but you have my thanks.”

It feels like your heart’s swelling and breaking all at once. How can you possibly admit you’re always wearing a mask in an effort to get others to like you, to remain by your side? Even if you care about them, that doesn’t excuse the fact you’ve been using them—

“I don’t…” you begin, voice haltingly slow, “I don’t deserve it. I-I’m still just a _coward_ who can’t let go…”

“Which is why yer a fool,” Johnny states blithely. “Too blind to realize that loyalty isn’t bought but _earned_. Ye can’t force others to like you, so if they wish to remain by your side then _trust them_. Place your faith in them just as they’ve done fer you. _Move on_.”

Any arguments you had seem to be falling apart at the seams. You know he’s right in many of the things he’s said, but your emotions are on another page entirely.

The candlelight of nearby lanterns reflect in Johnny’s eyes. “And if ye really want to prove to me that yer strong, then show me yer willing to take my advice to heart; show me yer willing to protect those you care about no matter what.”

...so that’s what he wants, huh. Idly, you remember a similar train of thought to agreeing to Shyster’s terms in the very beginning: why not at least try, right? Not like things are destined to remain concrete; your presence here in the land of _Super Mario RPG_ is testament to that.

Hell, Shyster even convinced you to try and stop that stupid arrow back in the Forest Maze. What’s stopping you from raising more chaos _now_?

You already know why. The longer you’ve stayed here, the more you’re realized this isn’t some fever dream...the more it will hurt at the end. Back then you thought that, no matter what you did, it wouldn’t have mattered because none of it was real. Having to take responsibility for your own actions...as a self-insert, it takes a lot outta you.

You’re a stranger with the power to change things, yes, but that also comes with the risk of making things worse—_ah, ah_, Johnny _did_ say you should rely more on the friends willing to stand by you. Even more is that this world is their home, and they are more than willing to try regardless of the outcome.

Just like Shyster said back at Booster Tower; he doesn’t know what’s _supposed_ to happen, but he also doesn’t care. Just as long as he can do something, he does.

Slowly but surely, you have to admit it: everything here is real, even the parts you don’t want to be.

“...how would I even go about that?”

Johnny makes a non-committal sound. “In the last few days, yer Shy Guy pal informed me there’s another Star Piece out in the wild. He insisted my men escort the likes of you out there in order to retrieve it before someone else does. He seems to believe in your abilities, as do Basil an’ Gill.” _Who_…?

You hesitate. “I...I don’t—”

_BAM_!

You startle. Johnny doesn’t look the least bit perturbed at the horrendouse sound of him slamming the butt of his trident down. Ignoring the furious palpitations of your heart, you look up at the pirate captain and greet slitted eyes.

“Sharkbait, I want an answer!” Tipping his weapon back and leering down at you, Johnny asks, “Are ye willing to go and retrieve this Star Piece, in not fer my sake then your ally’s?”

In other words: _Prove to me you’re going to trust Shyster as much as he trusts you_.

Because Shyster’s already placed his faith in you and your abilities to know what’s coming, but you haven’t truly done anything. You haven’t really tried to help him protect this world that is now your home, too.

Semi-reluctantly - because the what-ifs are too much to fully quell - you meet Johnny’s gaze. “Yes. For Shyster.”

The captain’s eyes crinkle and he finally bellows out a hearty laugh. “_Yar har harr_! Now all that’s left is to keep to ye word.” Placing his hook under his chin, he idly announces, “The four of ye will leave in th’ morning for Star Hill.”

You sputter, but are unable to come up with a reason to delay the inevitable. After all, it’s already been a week and a half, so who’s to say when Mario and them are gonna show up at the Sunken Ship? What if you run into them at Star Hill?

Right; trust in your friends and all that. Y’know, the whole point of this endeavor.

“Now that’s settled—” You blink stupidly as Johnny continues, “—the reason I came lookin’ for ye. It’s been days since our last sparring match, an’ I can’t afford letting ye leave without warmin’ up first.”

“You’re just using that as an excuse,” you complain, but pick yourself up off the floor anyway with a tired grin. If someone can pull your head out of your own ass, of _course_ it’d be Johnny.

*** * * * * * ***

“Sooo...which one of you is Basil and who’s Gill?”

Not your finest moment, but at least you _tried_. Realistically, the ice had to be broken since it would be too awkward stewing in silence for a long boat ride; better than opening up with “sorry for being an overdramatic asshole these last few days.”

Stitches makes a choking noise and nearly loses both his oars to the morning waves. Glancing back shows Stripes roaring in laughter, slapping his tail after having thrown his own oars down. Besides you, Shyster looks rather lost for someone with limited facial range.

“_Yar har harr_...! Oooh-_wee_!” Stripes turns to you and, still wheezing a bit, announces, “Looks like Sharkbait ‘ere spoke wit’ th’ Capt’n!”

Shyster puts two and two together, letting out a snide snicker. Turning to Stitches, he remarks, “Basil, huh? Never woulda guessed. At least it explains why you’re okay with your half-baked nickname.”

You let out a mock gasp. “How _dare_ you; my nicknames are the epitome of coolness.”

“_Pssh_, says the one who named me after the guys who tried to impale them _literally_ minutes earlier.”

“Hold up there matey,” Stitches finally says, looking between you and Shyster, “when did Sharkbait almost get skewered? An’ here I was thinkin’ _I_ be the only one to do that…”

You grimace. “Don’t sound so proud.”

Despite all your apprehension, the four of you quickly fall back into the snark you’ve grown accustomed to. Shyster takes great care to detail how the two of you met, painting himself as a knight in shining armor when in actuality...it was pretty much like that. Still, both Stitches and Stripes laugh it up when they realize you _did_ name him after your would-be assaulters. In the end, the blue bandana admits he likes your nickname better since it’s more intimidating, _pfft_.

All in all, it’s nice to be relaxing alongside your friends again.

The rest of the boat ride passes quickly enough, and soon you’re docked and traversing up Star Hill.

Unlike its name implies, Star Hill is, in fact, not a single hill. In reality, it’s a bunch of fallen meteorite-riddled comets that have no right being as large as they are. And much like it is in-game, as soon as the four of you set foot onto the purple space rocks, the sky darkened considerably until twinkling stars shone through. From what Shyster said, the place is heavily inundated with some powerful magic which makes it perpetually nighttime...or something.

“Once we leave it’ll probably be midday,” Stitches surmises, using his spear as a walking stick.

“Hopefully it’ll be sooner than that,” Stripes complains. “_Ugh_, at least th’ casino’s got drinks t’ parch me gills, _har harr_!”

Shyster makes a strangled sound. “I don’t know how you can stand the stuff; smells bad and somehow tastes _worse_. Besides, cutting back would be nice since, y’know, we wouldn’t be at risk of _getting kicked out_. Just a thought.”

You let out a crude laugh when Stripes swipes Shyster’s butt with the staff of his spear. Despite the Shy Guy’s grumbling, the bandana goes on, boasting about how he can out-gamble anyone whether he’s drunk or not. A quick whisper from Stitches confirms Stripes is, in fact, better whilst tipsy.

Being the large group you are, the local monsters gear up when you approach. Usually it’s just a territory thing, but it’s still kinda annoying when you have to fight through hordes of encounters. And even if you don’t recall every single enemy and their weaknesses or attacks, the fact there’s four of you more than makes up for it. Plus, as per Johnny’s request, you have the chance to spam the spell you learned yesterday.

“_Yahoo_! _Storm_…!” you cry, hands glowing a pale blue as you call your magic.

After envisioning it like a current in water - once again, Johnny’s idea - your magic comes easily but lacks general finesse. You’re like 99% certain that Storm in-game is supposed to look like a tower of wind or electricity, not some uncontrolled geyser.

The mastodon-looking monster falls apart as the magic hits it directly; all that’s left are its scattered bones once your spell dissipates. But even those soon disappear into puffs of smoke. Messy, but if it ain’t broke don’t fix it, right? Plus, your aim is getting a lot better than it was when you first journeyed to Grate Guy’s casino.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Shyster reeling back his mace as a few Geckos scamper away. He snorts before turning to you, one eyehole lidded in obvious skepticism. “Really? Calling out your spells?”

You shrug but your face is burning. “U-uh, is that...not normal?”

“Depends; if you’re a nerd, sure.”

“...well now I don’t feel so bad because I _am_ one.”

Shyster scoffs. If he could, he’s probably rolling his eyes right about now. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Much to your chagrin, a few more monsters come scrambling up. You and Shyster share a quick sigh at the three Geckos, drawing it out when a few of those moles pop up from the ground, too. You glance behind you and catch a glimpse of Stitches and Stripes fighting off a few of those Crook-like enemies.

“I got the lizards,” Shyster states, readying his mace before hurling it at one of the Geckos. The poor thing goes flying but you don’t hesitate to ready another Storm, aiming for the moles who throw a few rocks at both you and Shyster.

Despite the ease in which you can take out the local inhabitants, it’s a grueling process searching up and down Star Hill. All the slopes and divets are killing your knee to the point it’s already having trouble supporting half your weight, but the real kicker is that the place is _humongous_.

You’ve scouted over what feels like a football field’s worth of land, yet you’ve found nothing because those dumb star-switch things fail to stick out amongst a proverbial garden. Seriously, the smiling star-shaped flowers are _everywhere_.

After what feels like hours, you finally manage to find an unlit flower.

“So, uh, Sharkbait,” Stripes says nonchalantly as he rubs a fin under his chin, “what’re we suppos’d t’ do wit’ this thing?”

Wiping some sweat from your brow, you approach the bandana. “I...honestly, I have no clue. Maybe hit the thing?” Not like there’s a handy-dandy A-button for you to press.

Stripes does as you instructed and the flower remains dull as ever.

You tap your chin. “Huh. Not sure what I was expecting, but it was worth a shot.”

A few thuds and squeaks later, Shyster comes up to you. Ignoring both you and Stripes, the Shy Guy grumbles to himself in his own language before kneeling. With a quick touch, the flower immediately lights up.

Brushing his hands together, Shyster comments, “Everything here reacts to magic. How _else_ did you think this thing would work?”

You raise a finger but your face says it all. Shyster grumbles under his breath.

“Cool,” you say, scanning the horizon and spot Stitches still smacking away a few moles. “So now all we need to do is find the star-shaped gate aaand...repeat that arduous process all over again!”

Stripes calls out to Stitches, asking if he understood that plan but all he gets in response is an angry “I’m busy, can’t ye see?!” Your group watches when the shark then uses his spear as an impromptu golf club and smacks a mole square in its face, causing it to disappear in plume of smoke. Stripes snickers to himself while you and Shyster share a look.

“...let’s start looking,” Shyster says. “The quicker we leave the better.”

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to see the massive glowing gate. Sure enough, walking through it leaves you at a different spot on Star Hill. And just like before, the local monsters quickly take notice of your four-man band.

It takes at least another half-hour for you to fight through proverbial troves of enemies whilst also looking for a dull flower. In the end, you decide to break into pairs because magic seems to be the only way of activating the stupid things, and only you and Shyster are capable of that.

“On yer left, Sharbait!” Stitches crouches low and twists under you. He then proceed to thrust his spear directly into the mastodon’s skull, immediately causing the entire monster to fall apart and disintegrate.

You notice one of those Crook-like guys - you can’t be bothered to recall their actual names at the moment - and immediately power up another spell. A quick Storm later and the little guy quickly picks up their bag and scampers away, leaving several coins for the taking.

Stitches wastes no time in pocketing the money when no other monsters show up. Brushing them off and placing them in his pouch, he asks, “So what be th’ real reason we’re here?”

You pause in your stretches, wondering if you heard right. “I...what?”

Without turning around, he repeats, “I know the shortstack wants to get th’ Star Piece and that th’ Capt’n be testing you, but why didja agree?”

That odd numbness you associate with dread begins crawling up your spine. “B-because, I...if I have the power to change things, shouldn’t I...?”

Finally turning around properly, Stitches eyes you with a frown. “Did th’ Capt’n lead ye to believe it’s your responsibility?”

“I—” You try to defend Johnny, but somehow the bandana’s words coax out the truth. “...I guess so. But—I mean, shouldn’t I at least try…?” You hate how your words sound very unsure.

The shark continues staring at you. Finally he heaves a sigh, like he’s been given something too heavy to carry. “Do ya really think takin’ this Star Piece is gonna solve all yer troubles?”

You stop to think, but can’t adequately give the bandana a definitive answer. It’s not like you’ll know the outcome of your actions, but isn’t that the entire point of why you’re out here right now? Well, that and trust your allies more, but you’ve been fighting alongside them well enough, so that’s already taken care of.

In the end you shrug as you always do.

Stitches throws his spear over his shoulder. “Listen; I know th’ Capt’n well enough t’ say you’re missing his point. When he mentions responsibility, he probably talks about watchin’ out for us crew members—”

You nod and Stitches hums in approval. “—yeah, jus’ like I thought. He probably also talked about us sheddin’ our scales for him and him doin’ the same fer us. Loyalty, and all that. Point is, the Capt’n cares a whole lot but doesn’t solve all our problems; he trusts us enough to sort it out ourselves.”

You nod along but feel yourself growing more and more confused. What does this have to do with you?

Mouth pressed into a neutral line, Stitches looks down at you. “You’ve been on board fer a while; too long to be anything but an honorary crew member yerself. When Johnny talks about his crew and trustin’ them, he’s also be talkin’ about _you_, Sharkbait.”

Maybe it’s the fatigue or the chilly air, but you can swear ice is filling your insides as you stand here. You dared to hope you got along well enough with Johnny - _the_ Johnny - but how can you be sure Stitches is right? How can you be sure that you’re not just some menace the pirate has had to deal with? What if—?

A fin rests on your shoulder. Stitches appears calm when he states, “Stop yer worryin’. Besides, if I had t’ take a gander at what the Capt’n be planning, it involves the shortstack too. Still, focus on what’s important. Understand?”

Tongue refusing to cooperate, you nod dumbly.

“Good.” Stitches pats you once before turning away, muttering, “probably said too much, didn’t I…” but you don’t call attention to it. If anything, it pushes you to sort through all the things he said.

Though, at the end of the day, you have a very good idea what this is all about.

It can wait.

You don’t really mull over Stitches’ words too much, but you do give him a quick “thanks.” He nods, clearly lost in his own thoughts and you leave it at that. If anything, it’s a companionable silence as the two of you continue searching for ways to delve further into Star Hill’s labyrinth.

*** * * * * * ***

It feels like an entire day has gone by when you finally, _finally_ step through another star gate and see the damned Star Piece.

Shyster wastes zero time as he staggers over to the purple star. You hesitate, the fatigue weighing down on you to the point you don’t think you could move from your spot if you wanted to. But just as you’re about ready to just let Shyster pick the thing up so you can all leave, a fin places itself on your shoulder.

Sure enough, the oddly gentle touch belongs to Stitches. Stripes looks between you two, but the blue bandana ignores him and simply gestures to the hill the Star Piece is perched on.

...you guess it’s about time to stop running away from this, huh?

With a tired grin, you heed his unspoken advice and limp toward the small hill. A quick glance back shows Stitches watching you whilst also holding back Stripes; it’d be comical if nerves weren’t eating you alive right now.

Once you manage to make it past a single starry flower and up to the plateau, you see Shyster standing in the violet light the Star Piece emanates. Curious but clearly not as much as the Shy Guy, you heave a sigh and plop your butt down on the ground.

A few moments of silence pass before Shyster breaks it. “...I know we came here for the stupid thing, but for some reason it feels...wrong, being here.”

You make a crude noise. “You and me both.”

Shyster glances back at you, mask unreadable as ever. After some hesitation he plants himself close to you. The feeling of intense deja-vu washes over you as he makes himself comfortable, enough for you to comment. “_Heh_, for some odd reason, this reminds me of when we first started traveling together.”

“And here I was thinking _I_ was getting sentimental,” Shyster intones dryly, and you can’t help but laugh.

Leaning back and looking up at the nighttime sky, you catch a glimpse of a few shooting stars. Huh; aren’t those symbolic of granted wishes? Still, the sight seems to calm you down even if only slightly.

“Speaking of which,” you start, deciding to be unusually blunt, “isn’t it about time we had another heart-to-heart? Seems like it’s overdue at this point, if I’m being honest.”

This startles a short laugh from Shyster, who props his stubby arms on his knees. But then he quickly grows more subdued and the nerves begin to eat away at you again. “Is this about a few days ago?”

“...yeah, pretty much.”

“Look.” You do but Shyster’s mask is still staring straight ahead at the Star Piece. “I’m starting to feel like a broken record here, but I guess I gotta do what I gotta do: we’re in this _together_—” Here he actually turns to look at you with slightly narrowed eyes. “—and _I mean it_. I don’t know how else to say it, but I’m sticking this through ‘til the end, okay?”

Your heart swells as it does every time he says those words, and it’s a terribly selfish thing. Because at its core, all you can hear is “you’re not alone anymore.” And that’s all you’ve ever wanted since coming here.

“Y’know,” you start, wishing your insides weren’t squirming so bad you kinda want to hurl, “Johnny spoke with me yesterday. So did Stitches, but that was, like, an hour or so ago. Point is, they basically implied the same thing, and, looking back, I’m pretty sure they’re right.”

Still too much of a coward to directly face Shyster, you stare at the glowing Star Piece. “I’ve been unfair to you; it’s basically why I said you should stay with the pirates. Long story short, I wanted—want you around just because _I_ don’t want to be alone. I…”

You swallow. “...I never really put much thought into whether _you_ wanted to stay.”

Your heart wanes with every passing second Shyster doesn’t respond. It’s not like he owes you anything, so if he decides if he wants nothing to do with you anymore? It’d be what you deserve.

Minutes later, Shyster speaks. “This has to do with the stuff you don’t want to tell me.”

He says it more like a statement than a question, and you can’t find it in yourself to defend yourself. “...not gonna lie, but it does. Sort of. In a roundabout manner, yes.” Wow, can you possibly be any _more_ contradictory?

Johnny flashes to the forefront of your mind and, against that dread pooling in your stomach, you take a deep breath.

“Do you remember what I said back at Booster Tower? About me being unable to go back home?”

Shyster startles. Mask stoic, he turns away from you. “...yeah. Still, if you don’t wanna talk about—”

You make an ugly noise. “Too late to back out now. Besides, you’re an observant little guy and I’m willing to bet you already know some of what I’m about to tell you. I also don’t fancy being picked apart like a specimen under a microscope; did enough of _that_ way back.”

Shyster gives you an odd look but you brush it off. You take another breath to calm your erratic heart but it’s not enough. You take the plunge.

“I lied, or at the very least I’m led to believe I did,” you begin. Geno’s words weave themselves into your next words, hidden in plain sight. “I’m...pretty sure that, when all this is said and done, I...I’ll probably be sent back home.”

“Hate to say it, but you’re right; about me already figuring it out already.” Shyster scoffs, shaking his head. “Sound like a jackass, don’t I?”

You smile but you doubt it reaches your eyes. “A little, yeah. But I’m curious; how’d you put it together?”

He turns to look at you and shrugs. “Dollface made it kinda obvious, if I’m being honest. He knew who you were back in the Forest Maze and _then_ made it painfully apparent you were ‘supposed to help him.’ That and all the things he said back in the mines and Booster Tower, coupled with what you’ve been saying all along about not wanting any part of ‘this’…”

Shyster sighs, long and drawn. “You never wanted to come here; _that_ part was a no-brainer. Him hounding you down and offering to ‘help’ you in a way that differs from his mission? _Definitely_ fishy. Put two and two together and it’s obvious he’s the reason you’re here in the first place. It’d only make sense for him to return you once he’s done putting his Star Road back together.”

You stare at the small figure of the masked mook, wondering if all standard _Mario_ enemies have this much depth to their characters if given the chance to show it.

“Still…” Shyster turns to stare at you. His mask betrays nothing but his tone is level, even. “It doesn’t explain why you’re so desperate to avoid him. Why run from the only person who can help you return home?”

It’s not a rhetorical question.

Something wells up until laughter, strained and humorless, rings out.

You laugh until your ribs ache and your lungs burn. And in the eerie quiet of Star Hill, your breath peeters until your gasps for air echo into the dark sky. For it being so endless you’ve never felt so trapped, sitting underneath its canopy as you are.

Leaning forward and relishing how the cold wind seems to brush right through you, you return Shyster’s stare. Mustering as genuine a smile as you can, you state, “They were right; _this_ is my home now.”

The Shy Guy’s eyes don’t leave yours. Then, quietly, “...you don’t want to go back.”

Your smile wanes ever so slightly but you hope he can see the silent plea in your gaze.

Finally he relents, going back to staring at the purple Star Piece. “Fair enough.”

A hush falls over the pair of you once more. Your skin prickles but you resist the urge to scratch, to do anything to alleviate the pent up energy inside. You want to bring up something, _anything_ to banish this stupid feeling. Because, for this being a ‘heart-to-heart,’ there’s no resolution. Not yet.

“What happens next?”

You look over at Shyster, who’s still staring at the Star Piece. Ah, right. The stupid plot elements that you owe your entire self-insert existence to.

Wrinkling your nose, you fill the silence with your babble. You tell him about how Mario and them are probably returning on their way back from the Mushroom Kingdom with the princess in tow. You explain how they’re supposed to reclaim the very Star Piece you’re sitting in front of before heading out to Seaside Town. Yaridovich will dupe them into coming to blows with Johnny, they get his Star Piece, and then they return to kick Yaridovich’s butt.

Shyster interrupts you before you can describe everything after Land’s End. “Back when you were telling me to stay with the pirates,” he starts, pointedly avoiding your stare, “and you talked about Geno and them; did you mean it?”

Sighing, he turns toward you. “Are you really thinking about joining them?”

You shrug. Glancing back at the faint forms of Stitches and Stripes by the star gate, you allow yourself a wistful smile. “I...I have a feeling it’ll end up happening, despite how much I’d rather not. I just...really, _really_ don’t want to be alone,” you admit.

Turning to Shyster, you decide the truth is better than nothing. “But I _also_ don’t want to be a burden on anyone. I’d rather be alone than be a burden.”

Shyster’s mask immediately shifts until his eye holes are mere slits. It’s the only warning to get before—

_Whack_!

You can’t help the sharp hiss that comes out. You can only imagine the look on your face, especially when he doesn’t pull his arm back and instead uses it to aggressively point at you.

“You’re an idiot,” he seethes, “because no matter how often I say it, you don’t seem to _get it_. Sure, this whole thing started out as a deal but I’d think after so long, you’d get it through your thick skull that we’re in this together _not_ because of some deal, but because we’re _partners_.

“You want me to be blunt? _Fine_; blunt it is.” He huffs a bit and ever so faintly you can see a tinge of color rising to his cheeks. “You already told me _I’m_ your best friend, so why don’t you understand that you’re _my_ best friend too?”

The total and utter shock must show on your face, because Shyster’s eyes are still heated and—

“_No_!” You flinch, tearing your eyes away from the two sharks off in the distance. Meanwhile, Shyster continues glaring despite how his mask is growing darker by the second. “No, those dumb fish aren’t my best friends; sure, we get along and all that, but last I recalled _they_ didn’t decide to journey with me halfway across the world. It’s not…_argh_!”

Shyster slaps his arms over his reddened mask. Although muffled, his next words ring clear as day. “Maybe I tolerated you in the beginning, b-but…_Stars_, I-I actually _enjoy_ you being around, okay?”

You tell yourself those aren’t tears building in your eyes.

Without decorum, Shyster thrusts a hand out. Cheeks dark and eyes narrowed he meets your not-teary gaze. “Let’s make another deal: you don’t want to be alone and I like you, so why not stick together from now on?”

“E-even if it means joining Mario and them?” you ask, unable to stop the words.

Shyster remains unfazed. “Even if I can’t stand that dumb plumber, yes. Even then.”

Bewildered, heartbeat drumming almost painfully behind your sternum, you can only gawk at his stubby arm. Something breaks the moment by running down your own heated face and you hastily rub an arm over your eyes.

Smiling and maybe sniffling just a tad, you reach out and clasp Shyster’s hand in your own.

“Deal,” your watery voice echoes, “partner.”

Shyster heaves a sigh and hesitantly pulls away from your grip. His mask is still red even though his tone dries up enough to bemoan, “Now that that’s settled, I want you to appreciate how hard it is to talk about my feelings.”

You roll your eyes, making a _pssh_ sound. “Sometimes I forget you’re still a Shy Guy with that temper. What happened to being a ‘timid troublemaker?’”

“...I take it back; time to barely tolerate you again.”

The laugh that comes next is bright and hearty, so much so it also elicits a chuckle from the Shy Guy besides you. Aside from the utter relief - _I’m not alone anymore_ \- you’re just glad you and Shyster are on good terms again. On a better note, it means you don’t have to avoid him like the plague; those crates in the storage rooms aren’t nearly as comfy as his tent.

Shyster sighs. “So what now? About the Star Piece, I mean.”

“...honestly? I dunno. I mean, we obviously came here to get the dumb thing, but…”

He hums once, clearly thinking. “When Johnny talked with you—”

You cut him off. “He basically told me to, to trust your decisions even if—despite my misgivings, I guess. Made a bunch of weird analogies between him and his crew to me and you; hey, that rhymed! Uhhh, right; he talked about loyalty and...uh, placing my faith in my al...allies…”

Oh. Well, now you understand what Stitches said about Johnny ‘testing’ you.

“...gotcha.” You’re pretty sure Shyster put it together. Then again, you _did_ kinda spell it out earlier. Well, that and he’s _freakishly_ observant, so. Still doesn’t stop him from making a sound of disbelief. “You’re telling me the guy who wears the skin of a shark is that corny? The guy who ordered our kidnapping; _that_ guy?”

“I mean, the dude did sorta imply if he didn’t trust his men then he would’ve gotten us himself.”

“...huh. Suddenly I’m glad we got stuck with those two fish.”

You share a look before you both burst into another fit of laughter. Man, you’ve missed this.

“_Oi_! When ya two cuttlefish be done, let’s get goin’!”

Shyster startles and quickly peers back at a disgruntled Stitches, who taps his fin impatiently. Mask reddening yet again, the Shy Guy grumbles under his breath before standing, offering you a hand a second later.

Dusting yourself off, you barely miss another snarky comment made by Stitches, if Shyster’s bristling is anything to go by. He makes to stomp down the hill, but not before glancing back at you, then the purple Star Piece still resting benignly behind you. No words are needed, and he leaves with a nod.

Honestly, you’d like to do the same, but your knee is already wobbling. Taking it rather slow, you inch your way down the hill toward where an angry Shyster is currently jabbing an arm at both a cackling Stripes and smirking Stitches. Huh.

Oddly enough, the silence surrounding the hill somehow overrides the commotion of your friends. The only other sounds came from those smiling flowers, their tiny voices filling the air with their wishes. You can’t recall if there was a wish near the Star Piece, but things are different here than in-game; the singular flower resting nearby sticks out. Shyster ignored it on the way up the hill and continued to on the way back, but for some odd reason you’re drawn to it.

The tiny flower smiles back at you and you wonder if this is Mallow’s latent wish. Being a bit too nosy for your own good, you tap the plant and it releases a twinkling sound not unlike bells.

The voice that comes from the flower isn’t Mallow’s.

“_I don’t want to_—”

Your fingers immediately dart down and uproot the small flower before the voice can finish it’s plea. Heartbeat pounding between your ears, you watch yourself tear the starry petals from the stem until nothing is left save for scraps. Static seems to fill every crevice inside your body, snowy and crackling.

“Oi, Sharkbait! Whaddya doin’? C’mon, les’ get goin’!”

Wiping your hands to discard the remnants of smiling petals, you plaster on a quick grin. Turning back to the waving red bandana, you holler back some inane excuse before brushing off your shorts, but the sticky feeling doesn’t leave.

You make sure your figure hides what you’ve done when you make your way back to the group. If anything, you’re glad there isn’t a pair of observant eyes on you, still caught up arguing with the two bandanas.

*** * * * * * ***

The past few days have gone by without a hitch; surprising, given how Johnny immediately summoned you after learning you did not, in fact, bring back the Star Piece. But once you told him about the conclusions you’ve come to in regards to his words he basically let you slide...on the condition you sparred with him every day. And that was in _addition_ to you starting your training with Shyster, Stitches and Stripes.

Least to say, you’ve been bone-tired ever since your trip to Star Hill.

Your suffering didn’t really end there. Perhaps, as an added insult to injury, you and Shyster have once again become the local janitors.

“_Ugh_, what’s even the point? This whole ship’s soggy and adding more water ain’t gonna change that!”

“Keep it up and I’ll have to finish mopping all this by myself.”

“You wound me—_hey_!”

Shyster pries the handle of his mop away from you. “If there’s anything I pride myself on, it’s being true to my word.”

You’re about to bite back with another smartass remark, but your attention is quickly pried away from the Shy Guy in favor of the Greaper who suddenly appeared. Noticing the apparition, Shyster immediately stiffens but says nothing as they continue to float directly at you.

Since they don’t talk and you don’t know Psychopath, you’re not really sure what they’re trying to tell you. It has to be pretty important because they break away from their fidgeting to instead use their scythe-like hand to claw at your shirt in an effort to grab you.

Shooting a quick glance down at an equally confused Shyster, you shrug and allow the Greaper to lead you.

Idly, you wonder if it’s one of the ones you tend to talk with in your free time. Not like there’s any difference between them that you can easily decipher; all are pretty shy and don’t make a peep.

It doesn’t take long to reach your intended destination. The Greaper motions further down the hall before up and vanishing once again, leaving you and Shyster alone. A quick exchange of shrugs later, the two of you walk further into the darkened hallway, your cleaning buckets creaking unobtrusively.

Just as you turn the corner, your mind goes through an admittedly stupid string of throughts. Because really, what were you expecting given that a Greaper wouldn’t seek you out if it were just a few bandanas hanging around or causing a ruckus? So it seemed obvious in hindsight that the thing the Greaper wanted you to see wasn’t, in fact, other _pirates_ aboard the goddamn _pirate ship_.

Doesn’t really excuse you just waltzing out into the open only to see Mario and the gang embroiled in a skirmish with several other ghosts.

You hear a sharp intake of breath below you, but you’re too stupefied to add in your own. Because oh my god, _plot_.

The sharp _crack_ of a lightning spell going off breaks you out of your trance. You can’t really help flinching and then wincing when you see a charred Greaper shake themselves before poofing away into smoke. You wonder if magic is able to kill ghosts permanently; hopefully not.

Despite there being five of them, the ghostly crew members are giving the main heroes a run for their money. Not too surprising, considering that the enemies here ignore the logic of video-game land. That is to say, there are probably a dozen of them attacking the heroes at once, something that wouldn’t be feasible on a system like the SNES. Or wanted, really.

Although most of them seem to be going at the ghosts with physical moves, you can only watch in subdued horror when Geno steps back, arm shifting into a makeshift cannon. Better yet, it’s basically pointed directly at you. Well, that’s not good.

Shyster stops gawking before you do. “_Duck_!”

You don’t hesitate to drop as low to the ground as your knee will allow. Seconds later, the searing energy soars overhead where you had just been standing, heat wafting over your face. The beam peeters out after another moment, but the damage is done; a few of those skeleton-looking ghosts are gone, dissipated into clouds of smoke.

It’s only then when Geno seems to see you, red eyes widening and mouth hanging open. And then his eyes narrow.

Shyster makes a crude sound that sounds suspiciously like a curse in his language. You can understand why; Geno charges through the heat of the battle, clearly gunning - _heh_ \- for you. His face is pretty much painted with a sort of confused worry, but that doesn’t stop you from adhering to your instincts regarding the spirit: getting the hell away.

“What are you doing here? Did the pirates—”

That’s all he’s able to get out before you thrust your bucket at him, sending rivulets of soapy water down the hallway. As expected, Geno immediately slips on the slickened planks and falls down in an undignified heap.

The last thing you see is the doll clutching his hat, eyes slitted dangerously at your retreating form. Even as you hobble-sprint down the halls, mop and empty bucket still in hand, you can hear Geno crying out, “_Get back here_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wouldja look at that: character development for the reader! _Huzzah_!
> 
> Anywho, just gonna drop this chapter here. I know this arc's been kinda dragging, but I wanted to explore the emotional aspects in more detail, sooo...angst galore (plus some creative liberty to add onto that). But reconciliation is a joy, so maybe you'll enjoy it as much as I do! <strike>Also lore, but there's much more to be had, _ha ha ha_!</strike>
> 
> Sorry in advance; still busy so expect slow updates. But if you've read this far I can only hope you like this at least somewhat!


	11. Maelstrom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A running gag ends up being a pretty poor gag in retrospect.

“What the hell was that?!”

You huff and puff, wobbling on your knee as you limp deeper into the Sunken Ship’s hull. The quick _tap tap taps_ behind you indicate Shyster’s not too far behind; quite the feat since he’s carding around a full bucket and mop. Ever so faintly, you catch echoes of battle still ringing out.

Unable to really catch a breath, you manage to stutter, “I-I don’t know…! I, _hah_, just...l-look, option #1 when faced with Geno is to _run_, okay? It’s, like, _instinctual_.”

“Instinct my a—” Shyster cuts himself off with a short grumble. “We _just_ talked about the possibility of joining forces with them, and then you go pull a stunt like _that_?!”

“Sssooorry.”

You hear him utter “you better be” under his breath but you shrug it off. If anything, it seemed like Geno was gonna imply the pirates kidnapped you - true, but semantics - and was gonna save you or something. Unnecessary since you and Shyster are basically part of the crew at this point.

“Just…” Shyster sighs. “What’s gonna happen now that they’re here? Specifically?”

You slow your pace, safe enough to not hear the latent sounds of fighting. “No problemo. As far as I know they’re gonna tear the ship up - not literally - looking for hints about the password to get to Johnny. They also manage to take on King Calamari in the lower decks - asshole extraordinaire, I tell ya - aaand then fight off a bunch of bandanas, theeen fight Johnny! Ayup, pretty sure that’s it.”

Shyster makes a noncommittal noise. “Alright then. So what are we gonna do in the meantime; y’know, aside from inviting them to kick our asses?”

“...well, I was thinking we could just, kinda...wait it out in Johnny’s chambers. I wanna see the fight.”

Shyster gives you a disgruntled look. “Uh-huh, and that’ll get us closer to them _how_…?”

You shrug and admit, “Well, uh, I don’t...I don’t want to pick sides. Like, I like the pirates and I obviously don’t want to get in Mr. Hero himself’s way, sooo...u-uh. The common enemy here is Yaridovich in Seaside Town, right? Why not help them defeat him and, and work it out from there?”

“...you know, I think that’s probably our best bet.” Shyster nods once and reiterates, “Sounds good to me. ‘Sides, you mentioned Mario and Johnny would fight one-on-one a while ago; I’d _pay_ to see that, so getting front row seats is a bonus as far as I’m concerned.”

You snicker. “_Please_; you just wanna watch Johnny beat on the poor plumber.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Just as the two of you are about to walk up the stairwell, a horrible creaking sound echoes about the room. No sooner than you ask Shyster “what was that?” does a cacophony of _thunk thunk THUNK_ noises ring out, getting louder by the second. It is then, after turning the corner, that you realize ‘hey, don’t the bandanas roll barrels down this staircase to halt Mario and them?’

The answer is yes.

Unfortunately your knee is still pretty busted from your abrupt hike on Star Hill, so you can only watch the distinctly heavy-sounding, death-instigating wooden crate barrel toward you. _Ha_, gotta love last second puns.

Thankfully, Shyster opted to remain behind you and isn’t caught in the path of the stupid thing. You wish you weren’t either as soon as it rockets off the bottom step and straight into your side. Aside from the very obvious burst of pain from your ribs and hip, the dumb barrel is so goddamn heavy it quite literally knocks you down and for additional injury, rolls right on over you.

You’re pretty much left groaning into the planks under your face. Overhead, you hear a chorus of voices call out “wait, wait! Ain’t they ours?” to which a very pissed-sounding Shyster yells in kind, “You scaly _idiots_! Who _else_ would it be?!” Which is fair, considering the password room is basically on the other side of the ship. And immediately before King Calamari’s den in the flooded hull, but y’know. Honest mistake.

“‘Ey, is that you, Sharkbait?”

You answer with another muffled groan just as another set of footsteps approach. A few moments later and you’re pried up by none other than Stripes, who manages to pull off the kicked-puppy look _quite_ well for being a shark. Then again, baby sharks _are_ pups, so there’s that.

Holding you steady and kicking aside your discarded bucket and mop, the bandana offers you a hearty apology. Apparently, word’s gotten around the crew that a group of strangers are stampeding through the ship looking for Johnny’s ‘treasure’ aka Star Piece.

Stripes then has the audacity to playfully slap your back and you choke on a gasp of pain. Despite feeling like roadkill and Shyster’s vehement glare, the bandana goes right back to his cheerful self. “But ain’t this jus’ what ye was sayin’ before? One o’ th’ guys seems t’ be that red plumber everyone on th’ mainland talks about! Oooh, the Capt’n’s gonna have a blast an’ it’s all thanks to ye, Sharkbait! _Yar har harr_...!”

“Stripes, that’s great a-and all,” you start, “but _ow_.”

“Oh. Right ye are. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Stripes steps back before waving at the few other red bandanas hanging out near the top of the stairs. He hollers up a quick explanation while Shyster saunters up to you. Patting your leg consolingly, he goes, “You never fail to amaze me with how often you get hurt in the most ridiculous ways. But hey, at least you weren’t nearly stabbed; that _has_ to be a record.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” you roll your eyes. “Shyster? Being optimistic? Now _that’s_ a first.”

“At least I’m trying unlike _you_, because I refuse to believe your luck is _this_ bad.”

“Oh man, wait ‘til I tell you about the time I tripped and dislocated both my hips.”

“...why do I bother with you, again?”

You’re only able to shoot down a shit-eating grin before Stripes approaches you. Tapping his spear against his shoulder, he asks, “Didja run into th’ intruders?”

“Almost got beheaded by Geno’s plasma beam,” you state, “but yeah, we saw ‘em.”

“Righty then. Me group already relayed th’ message to th’ Capt’n,” Stripes explains. Shrugging, he then states, “If ye want, Stitches be up wit’ th’ other blues; gettin’ ready fer a fight, _yarr_. Ye could help us pelt some more barrels, ooor—” He glances between you and Shyster before suggesting, “—th’ two of ye can cozy up an’ wait ta see th’ Capt’n in action, _har harr_!”

Before you can politely explain you don’t want to risk another barrel in your ass, Shyster sputters, “We came here to tell Johnny about plunger boy and his gang, _not_ get run over. And after hearing so much about your captain, who _wouldn’t_ want to watch him take on jump man himself?”

Stripes’ grin doesn’t wane. Gesturing to the others he says, “Me an’ th’ boys were gonna make some bets. Are ye in, shortstack?”

Shyster gives his best approximation of a blank look. He gestures to you and remarks, “You seem to forget they’re a seer.”

“Ah, right.” The shark wastes no time in whirling on you. “Does th’ Capt’n win? Wait; don’t tell me. Ain’t no one as strong as th’ Capt’n, _yar harr_!”

You exchange a helpless look with Shyster who solemnly shakes his head. And just like that you say your farewells with Stripes and hobble up the stairs, his rancitious goodbyes echoing off the walls. Then again it’s not like you can actually be upset with the red bandana; the dude’s so easy-going and happy all the time. And _that kicked-puppy look_…

Knocking on Johnny’s door and announcing “it’s Sharkbait,” you wait until a low voice drawls, “Come in.”

Sure enough, as soon as you enter you see the four blue bandanas are surrounded around none other than Johnny. From their stances you guess they’re prepping for the battle ahead.

“Well well,” Johnny observes, “if it ain’t th’ seer. It seems ye have some merit after all. Now—” The pirate abruptly spears the floorboards with the butt of his trident, eyeing you over. “—what are the two of ye doin’ here?”

Shyster begins explaining about running into the others but you quickly cut him off, too enamored with getting to witness a boss fight firsthand. “We were wondering if we could, ah, sit around a-and wait for them to show up…? I mean—we wanna watch the fight.”

Stitches sticks out from the other blues due to his eyepatch, but it’s also obvious when he slaps a fin over his face at you admission.

Johnny hums. “Odd, ‘specially after what ye told me a few days ago. Have ye changed yer mind…?”

You wave your hands defensively. “Oh—oh no. No. Trust me; nothing’s changed about that. _Buuut_ if I get the chance to see you - _the_ Johnny - in action, I mean…’course I want to see it. Is—isn’t observation an important part of training, anyways…?”

Another muted slap sounds below you. You don’t have to look to know Shyster just mimicked Stitches.

Johnny’s yellow eyes seem to pierce right through you. They crinkle ever so slightly and it’s the only warning you get before he bursts into a crude fit of cackles. “_Yar har harr_…! Right ye be, Sharkbait, right ye be. An’ if th’ rumors be true, facin’ th’ legendary hero of the mainland will prove to be a true test of might; _arr_, it’ll be a real treat.”

You don’t have to be a genius to realize he’s basically salivating at the opportunity for a difficult battle. Beyond that, you can also guess he’s trying to rationalize how to get Mario to fight him solo; you know first hand how brutal Johnny can be like that...and he held back during your training.

“Given the chance, Mario’ll probably accept to face you one-on-one,” you interject; can’t lose an opportunity for that.

Johnny’s pupils slit in excitement. “I hope yer seer abilities stay true then, Sharkbait.”

You’re able to shoot a quick thumbs-up and smug grin down at Shyster before Stitches approaches you. Relatively relaxed, the shark motions to the room at large; huh, since when did they move Johnny’s desk aside?

“Alright ye two,” he starts whilst the other blues commune amongst themselves, “since ye didn’t want to stay wit’ the reds, how ‘bout ye make yourselves useful an’ help move the rest o’ these crates out of the way?”

Shyster makes a huffing noise at the same time you say, “Dude, they ran me over with a barrel.”

“...if it’d be anyone, it’d be ye, Sharkbait,” is all Stitches has to say before directing you and Shyster to the unattended crates.

*** * * * * * ***

“Hand over that Star Piece! It belongs to the Star Road!”

Johnny looks distinctly unimpressed by Geno, despite the fact the doll is currently pointing a potential weapon at him.

“Oh…?” You only hear the smirk because you’ve spent a lot of time under his wing—er, fin, you guess. “First ye dare to trespass on me ship, threaten my men, then ye have th’ gall to demand I hand over my treasure…? As far as I be concerned, this—” Johnny trails his hook over the edge of the blue Star Piece, “—fell into my waters, and therefore it be _mine_.”

The pirate captain slowly rises to his full, intimidating height - taller than Bowser! - and peers down at the heroes. A subtle jerk of his head later and you watch the four blue bandanas fall in behind him, spears held at the ready.

Amongst the crowd of anxious red bandanas, you catch Stitches’ attention and shoot him a pair of thumbs up. He nods back, even as he quickly uses the butt of his spear to push the Star Piece behind some crates, hiding it from view.

“Now…” Johnny spins his trident in a flurry of arcs, ending with it pointed directly at Mario, “if ye want it so badly, then ye’ll have to go through _me_ first! _En Guarde_!”

Unlike the simplicity that is found in video-game-land, Mario and company don’t have to abide by the party-of-three-no-more-no-less policy. Which seems all fine and dandy, especially since Johnny _is_ accompanied by his four blue bandanas, but in hindsight…

Something sharp digs into your side. “_Duck_!”

The small crowd of reds you’ve been hanging out in disperses as soon as Geno lets his laser loose. And just like earlier in the day, you’ve been forced to cower as the heated plasma soars where your head was moments earlier.

You gather your bearings a moment later when a pair of fins wrap themselves around you and—ah, it’s Stripes. The shark lugs you back out of the blast zone - _ha ha_ \- whilst Shyster scampers after you, clearly struggling to shove his way through the other reds spectating. Faintly, you register the sharp _crack_ of a lightning spell going off, followed by a very ominous sounding _thunk_.

Stripes quickly goes back to watching as soon as he’s made sure you’re no longer in the line of fire. Following his sight, he throws his fins up and lets out a loud whooping cheer when one of the blues lands a particularly nasty Pierce on Bowser. Then, in a show of teamwork, you watch Stitches sidle under the Koopa king’s strike to stab into...his tail, if Bowser’s abrupt cry of pain and jump are anything to go by.

Your cheer is short-lived when Mario literally jumps into action, planting his heavy boots into Stitches’ face.

“_Oof_, that had to hurt,” you comment to which Shyster nods.

Atop your perch of crates, your view of the battlefield allows you to witness the full and utter brutality of both Johnny’s crew and Mario’s party. Despite the fact a very physically-inept marshmallow and princess are on the field, the blue bandanas and Johnny make zero distinctions, using their full might to attack.

You wince when Johnny, apparently fed up with Mallow’s constant spells, halts for a moment to cast a quick Diamond Saw, which hits the poor mage back into the wall. “Poor guy; he’s gonna be feeling that in the morning.”

Shyster shrinks back minutely when Geno releases a point-blank hail of bullets on a blue bandana. “Ouch. Talking from experience, are we?”

“You have _no_ idea; Johnny’s a _demon_. ‘Sides, I’m kinda used to getting beat up on.”

“...don’t sound so proud of that.”

You and Shyster both reel back when Johnny lands a particularly brutal hit on the princess, dragging her across the wooden floor before throwing her aside. Judging by the searing hot fireballs hailing on the captain immediately after, it seems like Mario noticed. You watch with bated breath when Johnny simply swings his cape to diffuse the flames before rushing directly at the plumber in a speedy exchange of blows.

“Wow,” Shyster speaks for the two of you. “That was messy.”

“Totally. But I don’t blame him; it’s battle 101: always aim for the healers _first_.”

“Y’know, for someone who doesn’t really like fighting, you sure are vicious.”

Johnny lands another strike, sending Mario flying back into a pile of crates. You throw your hands up in a gleeful cheer as do most of the reds watching. Besides you, Shyster stands up in awe as you call out, “_Woo-hoo_! Nice one!”

No sooner than you lower your hands does a brilliant orange circlet whizz past your head, forcing you to duck haphazardly. Returning your surprised look are a pair of seething red eyes, courtesy of one nosy star spirit. Unable to help yourself, you call out, “_Hey_! Keep your Geno Whirls to yourself!”

Your distraction seems to work, because Stitches swoops in to bodily tackle the doll before swinging his spear like a club, hitting Geno further away still. You cheer on your friend even as he’s soon dragged into a fisticuffs match with Mario. Idly, you wonder if this is what watching any spectator sport is like; if so, _man_ you missed out in school.

A quick sweep of the room shows a blue bandana for each Mallow and Princess Toadstool, apparently understanding the whole unspoken ‘kill the long-range fighters and healers first’ rule of RPGs. Despite their best efforts to keep the enemy off the princess, the remaining three fighters can’t get past the other two blues and Johnny. And even more is that with her out of the picture, Mario and them are starting to look pretty banged up.

“Huh, so that’s what he’s planning.” You glance down at Shyster who tilts his head at where a couple blues are cornering the princess, far from everyone else. “Looks like they’re trying to stall ‘em out. If she can’t use her healing magic, then it might as well be game over.”

Aside from the realization Shyster seems to know what a game over is, you nod. “Oh yeah, I can see that as a viable strategy. It’d be easier to pull off the more of you there are, too.”

“Exactly.”

The two of you go back to semi-quietly watching the match unfold, literally on the edge of your seats. Much like Shyster said, it’s a messy affair to hear the screeching of metal among cries and yelps of pain, but them’s the brakes. Mario and his groupies _did_ technically invade Johnny’s territory after all.

Yet for as battle-ready and teamwork oriented as Johnny and his personal blue bandanas are, their prowess can’t match up to the sheer willpower present in the main heroes. Well, that and the stash of items they seemed to pluck from throughout the fight; you did catch both Mallow and Bowser eating some mushrooms. Even if there’re plenty of stuff Johnny and his crew could choose from, you know more than anything he’s really testing them and their resolve. He’s loyal even to his own morals when it won’t do anything except harm him in the long run.

Slowly but surely, the blue bandanas are worn down until they hit the deck and can’t get back up. The last one standing is none other than Stitches, but you can tell he’s about had it considering he’s using his spear for support more than stabbing.

It’s when you spot Mario jump and tuck his knees that you call out, “_Above you_, Stitches!”

The blue bandana perks up and manages to glimpse the oncoming threat before Mr. Jump Man himself lashes out, planting his heavy boots directly into Stitches’ snout. You can’t help the ugly grimace; that’s like the worst place to be hit if you’re a shark. You’re pretty sure those ampullae of Lorenzini are _really_ sensitive.

Your thoughts are proven correct because not even a second later Stitches drops to the ground, spear discarded in favor of holding his snout. A few of the reds watching release a sympathetic “oooh.”

Johnny allows the Mega Drain he was firing up to dissipate. Staring down at Stitches’ crumpled form and then looking at the other three blues who’ve since been lugged off the field by the reds, he sweeps an appraising look over the five heroes. Although they look battered to heck and back, they’re more than ready to keep going.

Slamming the butt of his spear into the wooden floorboards, Johnny gestures to Stitches. “_Sharkbait_! Help him off th’ field.”

You don’t have to be told twice. Scampering down the crates with the aid of both Shyster and Stripes, the three of you hurry to your downed ally. You can practically feel the stares drilling into you when you lean down and lift the groaning blue off the floor and onto some nearby crates, fussing all the while.

When Stitches pulls back his fins to reveal a steady trickle of blood running out of his nostrils, you openly wince. His voice is nasally when he complains, “_Ugh_, think me snout’s busted good…”

You know a decent amount of anatomy and physiology, so you help Stitches as best you can. Well, that and you’ve been concussed via a hit to the head too, so there’s that.

Interrupting your advice is Johnny, who in a very badass looking flip of his cape, points his trident at Mario once more. “_Yar har harr_...Alrighty then; consider that a warm-up. Now...why not mix it up a bit? Mario verses me! What do ye say?”

Ever the silent protagonist, Mario tips his signature cap once before his eyes glint. He raises his gloved hands in the usual fisticuffs animation he does in-game and that’s all Johnny needs to bark out a short laugh.

“Good on ye. And fer me; been too long since I could let loose. Now…”

_Oooh man_, you’d recognize that spell anywhere. Aaaand sure enough, among the excited chatter of the reds and even a couple of the still conscious blues, you watch as Johnny’s scales slowly but surely morph from blue to red.

“_Yar harr_…! ‘S been a while since I last saw th’ Capt’n Get Tough,” Stripes chirps.

Among the hollering of your crewmates you can’t hold in your own excitement. “_Woo_! _Rip him apart_, Johnny!” you crow, deliberately making eye contact with a very pissed Geno from across the room. Sure, you feel a little bad because even Bowser is cheering on the plumber, but your spite levels are through the roof right now.

“Wow,” Shyster’s dry voice carries over the others, “and here I was thinking _I_ hated the guy.”

“I mean, the last time we saw him he nearly caught my butt on fire. And after he just clocked Stitches in the face? Man, what a _jerk_. His tyranny needs to end.”

Stitches manages a weak chuckle. “_Harr_...now I wish I coulda got ‘im as much as he got me.”

Shyster pats the blue bandana’s tail consolingly. “Don’t take it personally; he _is_ a one-man massacre after all.”

It takes only a minute or so for the main field to be cleared save for a very serious plumber and gleeful sharkman. At some unspoken cue, the two rush to the center of the room only to meet weapon to weapon, with Mario having adorned the large mallet previously hanging at his waistband. The sound of metal meeting wood reverberates through the planks and up your spine; these two are probably the strongest people you’ve ever known.

You’re a bit remiss to admit your eyes can barely keep up with the flurry of attacks coming from both sides. But neither Shyster or your bandana friends seems to have any issues, appropriately “oooh-ing” and “awe-ing” intermittently as Johnny’s trident blocks Mario’s mallet or scores a stab on the portly man. It comes as a minor surprise to see Mario bleeding from several cuts, courtesy of Johnny’s big fork, but you suppose he _is_ human and you’ve already bled plenty.

There’s more clashes, more echoes of metal ricocheting off wood and vice-versa. Despite sitting amongst a crowd of cheering red and blue bandanas, their jeers seem muddled under your apprehension. If...if you’re really going to join them, then there’s the chance you won’t even make it to the end—

A gentle nudge forces you to glance down at an emotionless mask. Quirking his head, the owner simply gestures back to the field and states, “Stop worrying; a couple of mushrooms and they’ll be fine.”

You guess it really doesn’t matter. All that matters is sticking by Shyster’s side as long as you’re able.

So you obey his unspoken command and attempt to calm yourself down, finally able to make sense of both Johnny and Mario’s movements. Sure enough, Stitches reaffirms your suspicions by stating that Johnny must be getting tired; a quick glance across the field at Mario’s party shows them also worrying about their plumber’s stamina, if Mallow holding a mushroom is any indication.

Suddenly the two fighters are pushed back from one another. Then, in a bold move Mario rushes forward and leaps directly at Johnny, who responds by holding out his hooked fin and—

“Holy _shit_,” you breathe as it shoots out like a grappling hook, twisting around Mario’s ankle. Johnny then swings his arm around wildly, forcing the wide-eyed plumber to be dragged through multiple crates before getting suplexed into the floorboards.

Even through the crew’s going mad with excitement, you trade a stupefied look with Shyster. “Since when did Johnny’s hand become a _grappling hook_?”

Stitches hears you and belts out a crude fit of laughter. “The Capt’n’s always had that thing. Guess there’re some things th’ seer doesn’t know, _yarr_…!”

While watching Mario gather his bearings, Shyster leans over and harshly whispers, “You _trained_ with this guy? How are you still in one piece?”

You shrug when Johnny quickly fires off a Diamond Saw, forcing Mario to roll out of the way. “He, uh...he took it easy on me. Obviously.”

Shyster nods mutely and then pulls back in a wince when Mario dodges all of Johnny’s swipes and jabs, close enough to jump up and slam his mallet into the shark’s head. When the plumber makes a hasty retreat, you watch Johnny shake his head, but the fact he stumbles a bit while doing so can’t be good. Man, talk about a concussion…

The rest of the fight enters a similar pattern, with Johnny using magic to keep Mario at bay and then using his trident when the plumber inevitably approaches. But time is not on the shark’s side since you know he can only use so many spells before he’ll be out of magic—FP, whatever. Regardless, unlike in-game, the complete loss of all your FP stores affects your general stamina immensely. And since Mario is hardly using any of his fire magic…

You watch as Mario, on the opposite side of the field, wipes away a streak of blood from his cheek. He’s breathing heavily and sweating just as much, but Johnny doesn’t look any better. They stare at one another, apparently sizing up the situation.

Then Mario sprints directly at Johnny, face taut and hands on his mallet. As soon as he’s within range Johnny unleashes a quick, furious stab. You’re pretty sure your mouth falls open when one of the prongs slices through Mario’s shoulder with a spurt of blood.

Mario doesn’t seem to care aside from a small flinch. You realize why immediately; he deliberately took the hit so he could get close enough to land a few good hits. Too close to be stabbed again, the plumber vaults up and kicks Johnny in the face with a firm _thwack_! Johnny’s head cracks back, obviously stunned. The pirate makes no moves to protect himself as Mario twirls midair, clearly readying to swing his hammer.

Your hands come up and cover your mouth; you figured how this fight would end, but _still_.

With gravity on his side, Mario swings down with all his might and slams the mallet onto the top of Johnny’s head. Your side of the audience falls into a hush as Johnny goes down, barely halting himself by using his trident as a support. The captain is left kneeling in his own chambers while Mario hops away, still standing with his hammer still at the ready.

It’s clear who the victor is.

“_Yarr_...well, I’ll be damned,” Johnny manages after a few seconds. His scales change again, returning to their normal blue hue as the sharkman slowly rises to stand. “Seems like th’ legends from the mainland be true.”

Johnny then releases a boisterous laugh, completely changing the previously tense atmosphere into something less so. You note how all the bandanas aren’t disappointed but share in the captain’s reverie; another look shows them eyeing the fabled plumber with awe.

Seeming to understand the fight is over and won, Mario tips his hat and replaces his hammer back to his waist. The rest of his party approach him to give their own congratulations. You try and ignore the look a particular spirit is giving you.

“I be a man of my word,” Johnny announces before staring at you. “Give ‘em the Star Piece, Sharkbait.” Turning back to Mario, he insists to think of it as a memento for their fight before also stating that Mario’s earned his respect.

Wordlessly, you do as asked and go to retrieve the glowing plot coupon, still sitting behind a few crates. You go to pick it up - _how_ is another thing entirely; the thing’s as big as your torso - but as soon as your fingers graze the star, a sharp pain lances up your fingers.

Bitter cold. Weightlessness. Too tight. Darkness. _Fear_.

You pull back with a wince, wiggling your fingers in an attempt to ward away the numbness. _What the_…?

Knowing Johnny’s waiting on you, you shake your head and steel yourself to grab the Star Piece again. Thankfully, there’s no abrupt pain this time so you shrug off...whatever _that_ was and lug the glowing thing back.

Geno is the one waiting to collect the Star Piece. As much as you’d love to just drop it onto the floor as a final ‘screw you,’ you know Johnny’s watching. With much restraint you hold it out and refuse to make eye-contact; the single glance he sent your way just seconds earlier was enough to churn your stomach.

The gentle way he accepts the blue Star Piece just adds more fuel to the fire. You don’t want pity, _especially_ from him.

Despite being on opposite ends of the battlefield minutes earlier, Johnny and Mario seem to be hitting it off. In fact, you’re a bit surprised when the captain announces that as a sign of goodwill, they should stay and relax a bit with the crew. “You lot are gonna need t’ rest before ye set out fer Seaside Town,” Johnny says cryptically, much to Geno’s disdain.

It’s obvious the spirit’s eyeing you but it comes as a minor surprise to see all of Mario’s gang taking a peek at you. Huh; Geno must complain a _lot_ about you.

So you settle in alongside your friends while most of the crew busy themselves with bringing out platters of food and drink. After all, a happy pirate is a full pirate, ‘specially when they’re sharks.

Everyone soon adapts to the festivities, with Mario and his allies even mingling with other crewmembers and chatting them up. Or in Bowser’s case challenging a blue to a drinking contest. Still, it seems like everyone’s clearly enjoying themselves while you—

“Ye alright there, Sharkbait?”

You eye the half-eaten fillet of salmon on your plate and shrug. “Just not hungry,” you lie, pushing around some of the potatoes to make it seem less so. “How about you? Is your snout okay?”

“Had a bit of a Pick-me-up, so it should be fine,” Stitches replies. “At least it wasn’t broken.”

“Well, yeah. You don’t have any bones _to_ break...unless you consider dentin, but alas. Teeth are weird.”

Stitches eyes you oddly while Shyster snorts besides you. The blue bandana goes to say something before Shyster cuts him off. “Don’t bother; just let them be a nerd.”

You hear Stitches quietly mutter “no bones…” before he shrugs it off and pops in a few shrimp. And just like that you go back to watching the antics of the other crew members interact with the Mario gang. You nearly snort out your root beer when you see a red bandana offering Mallow a clearly alcoholic drink before a blue takes notice and swipes it, berating his underling at the same time. You _do_ snort some root beer when you see Stripes sidle up to the princess and Mario, loudly inquiring when the wedding is before being shoved away by a very irate Bowser.

It feels like hours pass before the abrupt party calms down. Mario approaches Johnny one last time and he subsequently commands a few reds to ready a ship to Seaside Town for the group. Ah, looks like the plot’s back on track.

Shyster perks up once they slowly filter out of Johnny’s chambers. You both watch Geno look back to give you a final, fleeting stare before he too turns away and disappears into the Sunken Ship. Despite all the bad blood between you, you can’t help but feel guilty.

Quietly, Shyster says, “Shouldn’t we go after them...? Before it’s too late?”

The fact there’s no urgency in his voice speaks volumes as to what he really believes. Then again, what else to expect from a coward who avidly runs away from all their problems?

You bite your lip. “I—”

“Sharkbait.”

You and Shyster turn only to see none other than Johnny. The food and booze must’ve done him good since he doesn’t seem the least bit out of it, even if he got whacked in the head a few times. His yellow eyes are honed onto your own and you feel so, so small under that look.

Tilting his head back, the sharkman simply states, “With me.”

You exchange a few looks with both Shyster and Stitches before following after the captain. He moves back toward a backdoor, nearly hidden behind stacks of barrels—wait a sec. Wasn’t this supposed to be that small room with the spring that allows fast travel? But he just sent Mario and them away on a boat...

Once you step foot into the cramped space do you again realize things here aren’t as cut and dry as they are in-game. Instead of a useful fast-travel mechanic, the room is filled with what looks like personal memorabilia; specifically Johnny’s, by the looks of the various tridents and different prosthetics hanging off the walls. But Johnny ignores the various chests filled to the brim with gold and jewels, instead guiding you toward the singular window.

You have to stand on your tiptoes in order to see out of the grainy glass. The sight that greets you isn’t the cove’s craggy interior, but of the endless ocean just beyond.

“What do ye plan on doing now?”

You startle. Shrugging, you answer, “I don’t...I don’t know. I mean—I know I should go with Mario and them, but…”

Johnny’s gaze doesn’t waver, silently expecting an answer. So you heave a sigh and admit, “I’m scared. Look, I know—trust me when I say _I know_ this isn’t a dream; everything here is _real_. I know that. But...that means it’ll hurt more. At the end, I mean. I want to _stay_ and _experience_ everything this world has to offer, b-but…” Your throat constricts until no more words come out.

“...yer afraid you won’t be able to enjoy your time here, knowing it has a limit,” Johnny finishes, voice as calm as the open waters.

You clamp your jaws shut, the shuddering breath contained safely behind your ribs. You nod.

Johnny sighs. “It’s a tough spot t’ be in, sure. But the longer you dwell on it the less time ye have to _live_.” Peering down at you he continues, “Then again you already know what’s best fer you; said so yerself. And if you want to explore th’ world, staying here won’t do you any good. And that Shy Guy…”

You sigh. “He...he said he’d follow me. If I leave, then he won’t...he won’t stay here.”

The pirate makes an odd sound between a cough and a laugh. “Makes no difference t’ me, Sharkbait. He can go wherever he pleases, as can you. But since he’s set on stickin’ by yer side and yer no different, does it really matter where ye go from here?”

You pause. He...actually raises a good point. If you and Shyster stick together like you planned, then does it really matter if you leave to go save the world? Sure, there’s the very real fact you’re on a time limit before you’re spirited away, but wouldn’t you rather spend that time with Shyster than wallowing in your own despair…?

Well, when you put it like _that_...the answer is obvious.

_Is this what character development feels like_…?

You manage a weak chuckle. “If there’s anyone else who consistently tells me to stop being a depressed dumbass while _also_ making me feel better, it’s you, Johnny.” _Shyster too, but he’s not here right now_.

Okay, now _that_ had to be a genuine chortle from Johnny. But it’s another thing entirely when he releases his trident to instead pat the top of your head endearingly.

Heart stuttering frantically behind your ribs, you can only gape when Johnny apologizes. “I’ve already said how much my men appreciate you bein’ here, but now it seems I have to admit I was wrong about ye. Sorry for doubting you and your abilities. Even so, you have my thanks fer showing me how it is. Now—”

The warmth of his fin remains even after he turns to shift through a few of his chests. Finally tugging free whatever he was looking for, Johnny eyes you once more. In his grasp is a slightly faded red scrap of cloth.

“Sharkbait, although you and that Shy Guy have only been on-board fer a short while, I consider you two a part of me crew. I’ve trained ye as well as I could’ve, yet you’ve grown more than I reckoned. Truth be told, ye remind me of when I was jus’ a lil’ bandana myself, _arr har harr_…” Johnny’s eyes are remarkably tender when he presses the fabric into your hands. “And now this be yours. Take good care of it.”

Too choked up for words, you nod and run your fingers along the worn cloth. The weight in your hands feels _right_, regardless of how cheesy it sounds. You fold it up and wrap it around your neck.

Johnny hums his approval and you sorta melt under his appreciative gaze. It’s also kinda funny since, instead of looking like Ness from _Earthbound_, now you look more like Ninten from _MOTHER/Earthbound Beginnings_. Strangely fitting, given your newfound magical abilities.

Finally able to maneuver your dumb tongue, you mumble, “Th-thanks, Johnny. For everything.”

Johnny shakes his head. “Think nothing of it. You were just a lost soul who needed some guidance; ye weren’t th’ first and ye won’t be the last. If ye really want to thank someone, thank the person who’s stuck by you all this time and plans to do so until th’ end.”

“...okay. Okay. I—we need to go and help Mario, then. Before it’s too late.”

Although you can’t see his mouth, you’re pretty sure Johnny’s smirking under that shark hood.

*** * * * * * ***

You didn’t really have much time to stew on the ooey-gooey feelings you somehow unearthed. Instead, you find yourself clutching onto Stitches like a lifeline. A quick glance shows Shyster similarly holding onto Stripes.

Before the four of you depart alongside Johnny to stop Yaridovich, a Greaper solidifies in front of you. Despite the other’s eyes on you, you release Stitches to approach them. They’re clearly holding something; hold on, it looks pretty familiar—

The specter glances down at the Safety Badge before holding it out to you. Right; doesn’t Shyster have one of these attached to his belt?

“For me?” The Greaper nods once, mute as always. You accept their gift and pin it to your newly acquired bandana. “Aw, thanks a lot, little guy. How’s it look?”

The Greaper tilts its head at your dumb pose. They sway in the air in an approximation of a laugh before stalling. To think this is probably the last time you’re probably ever see their cute little faces—er, masks. Still, it’s a bit sad to think about.

“...could you say goodbye to all your buddies for me, please?”

The ghost gives you one final, long look. Nodding mutely, they fade away until only open air remains.

Not as heartfelt a goodbye as you’d like, but you’re on a tight schedule. Without waiting, you go back and hitch a piggyback ride on Stitches. Once secured, he simply states, “Hold on” before leaping off the docks into the frigid water.

Even if the cool waters brushing past you and soaking your clothes feels kinda nice, you can’t seem to stop the apprehension creeping up your spine. You still can’t really swim all that well, but you trust Stitches. You just hope you aren’t strangling the poor guy with how tight your grip is.

It’s only once you depart the cove and surface in the warmer waters just outside it do you realize, “Hey, what about all our stuff back in the ship…?” Because _of course_ you forget to bring along your supplies in the rush to cut off Yaridovich.

Stitches, being a shark, replies even as his mouth is currently submerged. “Don’t worry ‘bout that; jus’ keep a grip an’ try to calm down. You’ve got a fight to prepare for, after all.”

You settle for nodding, still holding onto the surprisingly soft skin of the blue bandana. A quick look shows Johnny blaring ahead in a massive wake, Shyster holding onto Stripes just on his other side.

Really, what were you expecting? After you told them what happens next, Johnny immediately prepped you for take-off; sharks are faster in water than on land. And since they just kinda jump out of the ocean in-game, you kinda figured they’d be carding you and Shyster along for the abrupt ride. It’s a lot more smooth than those rickety old boats, that’s for sure.

The sky is bathed in burnt oranges and reds when you approach the main shoreline of Seaside Town.

Like in-game, there’s a distinct cliffside where you barely see a few silhouettes hovering about. But unlike the isometric perspective found in the game, you can clearly see a small boat waiting just below the rocky shore. It’s thankfully empty, but you know enough that it won’t be for long, if the Toads just above it are any indication.

“The boat—” Shyster’s observation is lost when Johnny abruptly dives beneath the surface. You both look around only to see his shadow just under the water’s surface, bolting forward before even that disappears.

Then, in a brilliant display of sheer might, Johnny rockets out of the water beneath the boat. It shatters into what will eventually become flotsam but the damage is done; Yaridovich’s getaway vehicle is no more.

You barely catch Johnny landing on the shoreline before Stitches commands, “Hold tight, Sharkbait!”

You don’t have the time to hold your breath before Stitches similarly dives down, submerging you fully. The saltwater stings your open eyes but you can’t afford to look away; not now, when you’re struggling to hold onto the shark’s skin.

But it only lasts a couple of seconds before you too breach alongside Stripes and Shyster. The landing is harsh, nearly jolting you off Stitches if it wasn’t for your death grip. Still, you crawl off on unsteady legs while he readies his spear as does Stripes.

It’s then when you take notice of the several gray and red Toads standing in front of you.

“_You_! Filthy dogs with no code of honor!” Johnny growls, trident pointed threateningly at the bearded Toad. “You lot have got some nerve, stealin’ me mate Mario’s Star Pieces!”

It’s odd seeing the normally benign Toad’s face scrunch together in contempt; you could never imagine Mr. Shroomby making a face that ugly. “_Drat_! First the Blade, and now this…!”

Yaridovich’s...pieces, you guess, turn around only to meet the rightly furious faces of Mario’s gang. There’s only five of them, but each one is carrying a Star Piece so you doubt Geno will actually shoot his arm cannon, even if his aim is already steady.

But Johnny takes a swaggering step forward, readying his trident for a Skewer. Before he can strike, however, Stitches says, “Johnny, this here be Mario’s prey; why not let ‘im have first pickin’s, eh?”

The captain’s eyes narrow. Relaxing his posture and weapon, Johnny merely nods. “Right ye are. We’ll still make ye walk the plank if needed.”

The elder Toad glowers at the sharkman but says nothing. It’s only when he turns around to see Mario pulling his mallet out does he release a shrill cackle. “_Hee hee hee_…! It seems you’ve left me with no choice! Now to get rid of this ridiculous disguise—”

_Cutscenes be damned_, that’s your cue.

It’s a risky move but if the orange Star Piece survived Punchinello’s massive explosion, surely they can withstand your own magical one. Nothing left to do but try: you unleash your pent-up energy as a point-blank Water Blast.

The spell covers all five of the Toads in boiling heat, but what you really wanted was how the resultant explosions forces the five of them apart. Bearing down on the closest one with a Diamond Saw, you shout at the others, “_Quick_! Take them out before he reforms!”

As you expected, while Yaridovich is separated into his Toad pieces he’s a lot easier to manage. Even so, the Toads are still made of metal and therefore shrug off most physical attacks. Hell, even Shyster’s mace doesn’t seem to be fazing them.

You fling your Diamond Saw into the ground before it whirrs across it like a disc, hitting the Toad closest to you. It seems to be the last straw because he growls out, “_Enough_!”

All the Toads spontaneously melt into a viscous, shiny liquid that slithers across the ground. They converge and slowly rise, forming the familiar shape of Yaridovich’s true form.

Gloved fingers thrumming gently against his spear, the general eyes you over. “I had heard there was a pesky little seer running amok, foiling our plans, but _this_?” He cackles again.

_What, does everyone and their mother know about me, ooor_…?

Unfortunately you said that out loud because Shyster chastises you. “Now’s _not_ the time!”

But you don’t bother replying, instead focusing on your magic. Calling it forth, you cast a Storm beneath Yaridovich’s feet. The force cuts off the general’s crude laughter, but the real kicker is seeing Shyster wind up before leaping, throwing his mace directly at Yaridovich’s face. Considering your unfocused Storm is pretty good at blinding those trapped inside, his mace hits its mark with a reverberating _twang_.

Your spell dissipates and you wonder why you ever underestimated a living spear. As soon as the turbulent magic leaves, Yaridovich ignores Shyster to instead rush directly at you, hoisting his spear like a club. You’re left stupefied, unable to move due to your state and your knee, even as the general swings down low and slams the butt of his staff into your side.

With a choked cough you’re propelled through the air before landing harshly in the dirt, both Stitches and Stripes hollering, “Sharkbait!”

Head spinning and ears ringing, you look up and see Mario’s gang have taken up action, squaring up against Yaridovich. Despite the overwhelming numbers, the general doesn’t seem to have any trouble swatting aside both Mario and Bowser, through Shyster does land another hit with his mace.

Your side is throbbing like crazy, but you pull yourself up anyways; you don’t want to disappoint Johnny.

Staying back because you’re basically a mage, you cast your spells relatively uninterrupted. Most of your Diamond Saws hit, but you avoid casting Storm since it’ll likely hurt the close-range fighters like Mario, Bowser, and surprisingly enough, Shyster.

Shyster goes for another hit but is smacked aside, flying through the air toward you. Cutting off your spell, you manage to catch his plush form...before his mace follows and smacks you in the head.

“Ugh...my head…”

Before you can complain further, a warmth envelopes you and seems to wash away the pain. Blinking up and still clutching onto Shyster - whose eye holes are _swirls_! - Princess Toadstool smiles down warmly. Helping you both up, she comments, “It looks like you needed a hand.”

“Uhhh...th-thanks,” you stammer. She smiles again before darting under Yaridovich’s spear to tend to a battered Mario.

Why couldn’t you have inherited Ness or Ninten’s perchance for healing magic…? You _really_ needed it.

It’s the only mishap that happens for the majority of the battle, what with you, Mallow, and Geno keeping your distance to cast your spells or, in the latter case, shoot his bullets. Unfortunately for you, you don’t have the timing down like Mallow does, who intermittently casts lightning spells despite the excessively wide range; how he doesn’t nail his allies is something, alright.

Your Diamond Saws sail directly at Yaridovich’s face, but he quickly ducks beneath them. Unfortunately for him, this leaves him open to Bowser, who’s running at him like a charging Chuck. The Koopa king absolutely bodies the general to the other side of the shore, crowing, “Take _that_, you overgrown hunk of junk!”

Huh. Note to self: don’t get in Boswer’s way. Like, ever.

Despite being a seven-verse-one matchup, Yaridovich is the strongest of Smithy’s generals - not counting the full team of the Axem Rangers - so the fight is still a grueling one. It doesn’t take long for your magic stores to shrivel up. With your bag still in the Sunken Ship, there’s isn’t much else you can do to help physically. Even so, Shyster stays close to you.

When Yaridovich plants his spear in the dirt with a growl, overflowing with magic do you realize you should’ve told Shyster or the Princess to mute this douchebag. Unfortunately, it’s too late so you settle for the next best thing: immediately grabbing Shyster despite his squawk and crouching low, shielding him as best you can.

Sure enough, Yaridovich yells, “_Water Blast_!” _So that makes him a nerd, right_…?

It’s the last coherent thought you have before you’re on the other end of the notorious spell. It’s as unpleasant as you thought it’d be; that is to say, it hurts. A _lot_.

A strained sound makes it past your clenched teeth; it feels like you’re being submerged in boiling water. But you know it’s only the calm before the storm—ah, there it is. Explosions blare in your ear and you hope you’re not crushing poor Shyster to death, even as your skin burns. Belatedly, there’s a distinct feeling of weightlessness and—

You hit the ground in a heap, the impact forcing a harsh breath from your lungs. Judging from all the groans and whimpers in the air, you bet the others didn’t fare so well against Yaridovich’s Water Blast either. It’s _tons_ stronger than yours, that much is obvious.

Shyster eventually squirms out of your grip enough to look you over once before seeing your sorry state. “Wh-what were you _thinking_?! Y-you—”

“M’sorry,” you mumble instinctually. “But I’m outta magic; only option left is to play meat-shield.”

Not like you’re an overgrown turtle-dragon, a superhuman with a hammer, or a bunch of guns masquerading as a doll. And it’s not like you could do any lasting physical harm, what with your bum knee and generally weak constitution. Plus Yaridovich is made of metal, so there’s that.

There’s a hush that falls over the battlefield, but maybe it’s your ringing ears.

Being as out of it as you are, it takes a moment for you to recognize the shadow that’s fallen over your crumpled form. From across the field, you can hear both Mallow and Geno yell, “_Watch out_!” at the same moment Stitches and Stripes call out, “_Sharkbait_!”

Well, that can’t be good.

“Pesky little seer,” Yaridovich’s voice drips above you, “I won’t have you meddling with our plans any longer!”

_THUNK_.

You lurch forward with the unseen force, eyes wide as they meet Shyster’s stoic mask. Somehow, the sound resonates louder than the frantic heartbeat pounding away between your ears. And your side—_o-oh_.

Yaridovich yanks his spear out and you collapse onto the dirt. Something warm and wet - _blood_, your mind supplies through the chaos - spills down your side. That’s—that can’t be good.

It feels like everything’s moving a mile a minute yet being as slow as molasses; you blame the adrenaline. You _also_ blame the adrenaline for your subsequently ludicrous thoughts; you doubt someone’s first reaction to being stabbed is ‘_aw man, now I gotta buy another shirt_.’

Your trembling fingers manage to find the wound and—yup. That’s blood all right.

Okay. Okay; you—you’re not dumb; at least not right now. You _can’t_ be. You know you need to staunch the blood flow and try to press your hands more firmly onto the—

A wheezing sound hisses past your teeth. Wow, the last time your vision went _this_ white you were diagnosed with severe anemia. No wait; not the time.

Another pair of hands press into your side. Shyster doesn’t let up despite the weird sounds you’re making, instead calling out for the princess. He sounds...weird. Loud.

Despite, well, everything being too much right now, you can hear the battle reignited behind you. Echoes of metal ring out and you just hope Yaridovich doesn’t come back to stab you again.

Suddenly a few bodies crowd around you—it’s Johnny and them. Well, at least Yaridovich won’t come back with them around you. That’s good.

What’s _not_ good is the fact your fingers are growing number by the second. Is—is this what shock feels like? Probably.

“_Hhnngh_...don’ feel good.”

You vision is so...off you don’t know if Shyster’s looking at you or not. “_No shit_; just—just be quiet and stop moving.”

You probably make another muffled sound but aren’t too sure; all you know is that Stitches agrees. “Sharkbait, jus’ focus on breathin’, alrighty? C’mon…”

Again, you try to nod but you’re having difficulty telling which direction is up. You settle for mumbling a response - maybe it was an apology, you don’t really know - and close your eyes.

There’s more voices, more sound, all muddled together and you—you’re tired. You’re _so tired_. You just want to sleep right now. So you keep your eyes shut and allow your frenetic heartbeat to lull you into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hap new year!! *cues confetti*
> 
> Boy oh boy, I do love me some drama. Anyways, hope you enjoy this update!


	12. Anchor's Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader finally becomes a proper self-insert.

When you wake up it feels like you’ve swallowed a beach’s worth of sand. Eyelids feeling far too heavy for their own good, you manage to pry them apart and—ow. Squinting because _argh sunlight_, you look around only to be met with the sight of a sleeping Shyster.

He’s sitting on a stool and using the bed you’re in as a makeshift pillow. Sure enough, closer inspection shows you propped up, likely being housed in a room at Seaside Town’s inn.

It’s then when you also realize ‘hey, wasn’t I stabbed like, just a little bit ago?’

Trying to not disturb Shyster, you shift a bit and wrinkle your nose at the slight pain emanating from your side. Lifting the plush covers shows you’ve been changed into a clean set of clothes, which is nice but also _who the heck did it_. Then again, sepsis is a very real thing and you’d rather not suffer through that; sounds horrendous from the stuff you’ve heard. Embarrassment sorta averted. Kinda.

More exploration later you find the wound clean and bandaged thoroughly. You make a mental note to thank the princess later.

Watery-sounding grumbling fills the quiet and suddenly you’re not the sole conscious occupant.

Aaand you wish you were still sleeping because, as soon as he stops rubbing his mask, Shyster immediately hones in on you with the most vicious face. Well, for someone who doesn’t really _have_ a face aside from a very emotive mask, but that’s besides the point.

“_You_,” he hisses. Throwing his arms up, he goes on, “What were you _thinking_?! If you hadn’t turned your back, then you might’ve been able to dodge Yaridovich!”

Still tired and having little to no filter in this sort of state, you shrug. “I shoulda told you to mute him earlier. Forgot and I paid for it; isn’t that just...what battles are like?”

“_No_! You’re supposed to watch _your own_ back _first_ and _foremost_!” he seethes, eye holes narrowed dangerously. He huffs for a second before he lets loose a small sigh. His tone is remarkably softer when he scolds, “Not...not shield me. I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

You’re pretty sure he angrily mutters about your ‘meat-shield’ comment but you ignore it.

“M’sorry. But I also don’t regret it.” You wilt a bit under his harsh gaze but stand—er, sit your ground. “I-I mean, you were pretty much the only one standing after the fact...at least from what I remember.”

Shyster crosses his arms. “...true, but that doesn’t mean it’s an incentive for you to pull that same stunt down the road.”

You think about how he then spent the next moments helping you from bleeding out. “Fair enough.”

“...you were hurt,” Shyster says after a pause, “_badly_. It’s—I don’t like feeling useless.” Here he levels you some sort of look, but his mask is unmoving. “Promise me you won’t do something that stupid again.”

You _hate_ making promises. Deciding to about it the honest route, you admit, “I did what I did so _I_ wouldn’t feel useless...I think. Hell, I feel useless pretty much every minute I exist. But—”

“No. Just—just _stop it already_.”

You resist the urge to stare down at the patterned comforter draped across you.

Shyster’s mask doesn’t shift even if his tone is clearly strained. “You don’t get to say things like that when you have others who _care_ about you. What I said back at Star Hill is still true; I enjoy hanging around you. You...you’re good, at least in my books.”

“Even—” you begin, halting under his scrutiny. “But you—you don’t know me. _I_ don’t know me; I just...I dunno, I’ve always…” _Played pretend_? _Put on a mask_? Ha, ha.

Shyster sighs. “You’re an idiot.”

You expect it to hurt. It’s actually a bit surprising when it doesn’t. Intrinsically, you know there’s no malice behind his words. So you allow your curiosity to take the reigns of your emotional state.

“Or you think I’m one,” he says after a beat. “Do you really think I haven’t noticed how you’re always slapping on a smile even when it’s blatantly fake? I can only guess you’re doing that sort of thing for someone else’s benefit; maybe your own, who knows? But I know enough to realize it can’t be good for _you_. Coping is one thing, but faking is a whole ‘nother can of worms. Holding it in helps no one.”

Shyster slaps a hand to his chest. “Take it from me, a Shy Guy too pissy for his own good.”

A laugh squirms its way past your tight throat into the open air. “Th-that’s...y’know, that’s what Johnny told me, too. Except the pissy part.”

Shyster’s posture eases up. “Figures. He seemed like a rational enough guy...well, until he got the chance to fight someone. He _was_ pretty terrifying after you—”

His voice fades away into distinct discomfort. “...you know. Almost died, I guess.”

“Pretty sure I wouldn’t have bled out,” you comment, scratching at your bandages. “‘S far as I know, there aren’t many vital organs on this side; maybe my spleen, but the hit was too low. Probably. I mean, if he did manage to rupture my spleen, I most likely wouldn’t be sitting here...right...now. Oh. Sorry.”

Lightly smacking your leg, Shyster reprimands you some more. “This is what I’m talking about. We made a deal—”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we basically professed our undying love for one another—”

“_D-don’t put it like that_!” He coughs awkwardly. “The point is that we’re supposed to _stick together_. You’re not my responsibility because it’s an obligation anymore, but because _I care about you_—”

“Even if I’m gimpy and a burden in a fight?” you challenge.

“For _stars_ sake,” Shyster mumbles under his breath. Staring directly at you, he doesn’t hesitate to make his mind known. “Yeah, even then. If I _didn't_, then why would I have ruined one of my robes making sure you didn’t bleed out? Why would I have stayed by your side all night long because I didn’t know when or _if_ you’d wake up?”

The guilt washes over you and cows you immediately. Despite how you may feel about the matter, you know it’s not the expected reaction. Heck, if you saw Shyster in a similar circumstance you’d be in the same boat.

You’re a pretty selfish person to not even bother thinking about his perspective.

“True—” You wince; didn’t mean to say that out loud. Shyster continues unperturbed, “But at least you realize it. So try not to just...gloss over things like this. It’s important.”

“I-I get it,” you begin, wincing at the abrupt feeling of malcontent from the Shy Guy, “but...again, I don’t regret it. Since I know Water Blast and what it’s like, at least somewhat, I didn’t want you to...to get hurt. I guess you could say I’m happy with this outcome. So sorry for worrying you, but I’m _not_ sorry for—for, y’know.”

Sighing, Shyster glances away. “That’s also true. I get it. But...I guess I’m just being a hardass because my best friend almost died or got hurt real bad; whatever. Point is I wish they had some more self-preservation. So—”

Shyster holds out a hand.

“You know the works. New deal; no more dumb stunts that would prevent either of us from reaching Smithy in one piece. I mean, you _did_ mention spite motivates you like nothing else.”

Something between a smirk and an uneasy grin makes its way to your face. “Huh. Well, when you put it like _that_...I guess a lil’ revenge for getting stabbed won’t hurt. Hopefully; I would not recommend getting stabbed, by the way. Not fun, 0 outta 10, didn’t even see my life flash before my eyes—_ouch_!”

“Keep talking like that and see what happens.”

“Okay, okay, jeez!” And just like that, you take his stubby little hand in your own with a firm shake. If anything, it’s more character development for you to chew on.

Once you let go, Shyster huffs a bit. “_Ugh_. It isn’t even afternoon yet; too early for feelings, in my opinion.”

“Oh man, you and me both—”

Your stomach gurgles. Loudly.

“...so, uh,” you flush and look down at the comforter, “hm. When’s lunch? I think I might be hungry.”

“Who woulda guessed?” Shyster intones dryly before glancing off to the side. “What little rations we had are probably bad by now or waterlogged. It’d probably be our best bet to wait until lunchtime; a hot meal sounds pretty good.”

Confused, you follow his line of sight and see all your rather meager belongings, propped up on the loveseat. So someone from the crew probably delivered your stuff after the battle; how nice of them, even if you can see your yellow canvas bag is still a bit damp. It’s then when you see a folded note resting on Shyster’s backpack, wrapped in twine and looking suspiciously like it came from the Sunken Ship.

“Hey, what’s that?”

Shyster hops off his stool with an “oh, right.” Swiping the worn parchment and unravelling it, he mentions that both Stitches and Stripes retrieved all your things; “Except our frog coins, those bastards,” the Shy Guy snarks. He finishes and hands it off.

You skim over it, smiling gently as the words take root.

_Heya Sharkbait (and shortstack),_

_The Captain thinks ye’ll be fine, so me and Stitches won’t worry too much! But we hope ye feel well enough sooner rather than later, har har! Here’s all yer stuff (got a bit wet, so sorry!), since Johnny said ye won’t be with us any more. _

_Sorry for not being there to say goodbye!! It was fun being with ye both even if it wasn’t for long. The two of ye will always be welcome at the Sunken Ship, so maybe ye should visit sometime! (But don’t expect yer frog coins back!!) Until then, bye-bye!!_

_—<strike>Gill</strike> Stripes_

_(Stitches here; take care of yourselves now, especially you Sharkbait. And shortstack, try and help them out; they’ll need it even more without me there. Hope you enjoy the beach, and may the winds be in your favor.)_

Oof. Feelings, alright.

This is Stitches and Stripes’ goodbye; Johnny’s is still tied around your neck, secure and comfortable.

You try and banish the heat gathering inside your nose with minimum success. A few tears slip out and you hastily scrub them away. There’s just...so much to deal with.

Who knew Stripes was just as excitable in his writing as he is in-person? It’s a cute send-off, but you can’t deny the stab of guilt the letter causes. It’s not like you’ll have the chance to ever go back to the Sunken Ship once everything is said and done. Once your adventure ends, you’re 99% sure your time here in this world will come to a close, too. The fact Stripes or Stitches have no idea is kinda heartbreaking.

“Sorry,” you blubber out loud.

Shyster says nothing and you wonder if he feels as strongly as you do. Probably...probably not.

It takes a few minutes for you to stop crying. Your sniffles die down to an acceptable point where Shyster then suggests you go take a hot shower and relax a bit while he finds out when lunch is being served. “Anyone who doesn’t enjoy a warm shower can’t be trusted,” he states so matter-of-factly you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up.

He exits shortly after removing the bandages used to dress your wound, practically demanding you to clean it under water. You shake your head but obey, shifting through your stuff to get your backup clothes. You make a mental note to go shopping later.

Entering the pristine bathroom, you idly wonder where Mario and them are before stopping that train of thought; when the time comes you’ll deal with it. For now, relaxation time.

*** * * * * * ***

“Whew-wee! I’m stuffed!”

Swallowing a burp, you push your empty bowl away and revel in the feeling of a full stomach. In true _Mario_-fashion, the marinara sauce they have here is superb. Helluva lot better than what you can macgyver, that’s for sure.

“I’ll say,” Shyster quips, twirling some his noodles. “Didja even breathe? It hasn’t even been ten minutes.”

“...hrrn. I don’t know whether to take that as an insult or a challenge.”

He shoves a forkful of spaghetti into his face before pointing the utensil at you. “Don’t twist my words to your benefit.”

“_Pssh_, please. Wait ‘til you see me and pizza; now _there’s_ a recipe for delicious, delicious disaster.”

“...I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you’re the idiot who shoves molten food into their mouth.”

“You know what they say,” you grin, “no pain, no gain!”

If he could, you have little doubt Shyster would be scowling into his spaghetti.

It takes several more minutes for Shyster to finish his own bowl, likely because the two of you stewed over your plans for the day as opposed to addressing the elephant in the room, so to speak. After all, you haven’t seen hide nor hair of Mario’s entire gang all morning and even now during the lunchtime rush. Sure, the inn’s dining area is pretty scarce - most travelers seem to check-in sometime between afternoon and dusk - but still. You’re pretty sure the seven of you are the only adventurers out and about here in Seaside Town.

“Regardless,” you continue, “aside from wanting to visit the beach, I’d really like to go shopping. For clothes specifically; I’m kinda, er, running out, if you catch my drift.”

Shyster dabs his mask free of red sauce with a napkin. “...right. We should have enough coins to stock up on some more supplies. Plus, this is _Seaside Town_; prime real estate for vacation homes and what-not. There’s sure to be loose change here and there. There’s also the casino, but I’m pretty sick of the place.”

Nodding along and somehow ignoring the very real possibility Shyster is not only a thief but a burglar, you take a sip of your juice. “Kinda sucks we don’t have our frog coins; there’s a frog from Tadpole Pond here who sells some pretty good stuff. Only accepts frog coins though.”

“Figures.” Shyster hops out of his chair and you throw back your glass, nearly choking as you do so. “Might as well see what’s up in town.”

And that’s how you find yourselves back in the room, picking up your bag. After leaving most of your impersonal items you toss it over your shoulder and—_chink_.

Shyster looks over. “What was that?”

“I dunno,” you reply, digging through all the interior pockets.

The culprit turns out to be a relatively fat pouch, tied neatly with some more twine. Opening it shows nothing but the golden glimmer of coins, jingling away with every movement. Sifting some more, your fingers brush past another piece of parchment hidden beneath all the money.

Unfolding it shows a very simple message:

_Here be your piece of 500 coins. Consider it a gift._

_—J.J.J._

Shyster lets out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of cash to be givin’ away, especially for a _pirate_. But it’s not like I’m complaining; with this we’ll be set for a good while thanks to Johnny.”

You shuffle through the pouch in awe. “...well, at least I’ll be able to buy another shirt. Hopefully they have stripes around here.”

“I’m gonna Lulla-Bye you into next week.”

After you divvy up the money so you’re not carding around all of it - “rule number one of being a thief: don’t carry around too much money or _you’re_ gonna get robbed,” Shyster said - you start exploring the town. It’s a lot bigger as with literally every other place here, but it’s actually pleasant instead of a pain in your butt. If anything, the coastal community distinctly reminds you of your own town—nope; don’t think about it or else you’ll be homesick.

Still, the longer you meander around the cobbled streets the longer you’re reminded of where you grew up. It’s difficult to not match the similarities, what with the constant breeze coming from the ocean and the saltiness in the air.

You suppose your love of all things marine had to originate somewhere. You _did_ visit the rocky beaches often as a child.

But unlike the frigid, rugged coastline you’re used to, the one Seaside Town is nestled on is comparatively warmer and, dare you say, more tropical. Sandy beaches are a lot nicer than rocky ones for relaxing, but not so much when it comes to tidepooling. Plus there probably won’t be any agates to collect...boo-hoo.

Saving the beach for last, you and Shyster amble through the streets; well, you’re limping but whatever. Even if it’d be a lot faster if you split up, he seems keen on remaining by your side.

It’s when you enter the local sewing shop for some new clothes do you catch sight of Princess Toadstool. She’s engrossed in a distinctly sailor-themed dress and you ponder whether to thank her for healing you or to just walk out and pretend she doesn’t exist. Because holy _shit_, that’s _Princess Peach_, the literal best-known woman in video game history. She’s a _princess_ and it’s not like you know how to conduct yourself in public, much less in front of _royalty_.

“Go say something,” Shyster harshly whispers, nudging you forward.

“N-no! What if I make a fool of myself? She’s—she’s the _princess_! I can’t just—”

“Oh...? If it isn’t you two!”

You stop arguing with Shyster only to look up and find none other than Princess P—Toadstool staring down at you. Ignoring how much she towers over you and how pretty she is, you fumble to get anything, literally anything out instead of gawking like some sort of idiot.

The princess beats you to the punch. “I’m so glad you’re okay, erm...I don’t think we were properly introduced. I’m Princess Toadstool, and you are…?”

When it becomes glaringly apparent your tongue isn’t going to cooperate, Shyster raises his hand. “I go by Shyster; you can blame them for that nickname.”

You notice how her face contorts a bit at ‘Shyster.’ You wonder why since she wasn’t even present in the Mushroom Kingdom for that, but then again this is the real world. The chancellor likely told her all about Mack and his cohorts when she went back.

Clasping her hands, the princess looks back to you. “And you must be the seer everyone talks about! And your name is—”

“I-I go by Sharkbait!” Wow, way to go. Why not follow social convention and wait for her to finish next time?

A couple muted thumps sound from Shyster. Probably face-palming at your stupidity, but you deserve it.

Toadstool looks surprised. “‘Sharkbait?’ Like those pirates who kidnapped you? Is that really okay…?”

“They didn’t—” You stop yourself and try to calm the abrupt flare of defensiveness. “Okay, sure, yeah they did catch us and all that, but they’re also some of my closest friends and, and...yeah. They’re still good people.”

“Oh...well, I’m happy for you. I’d probably feel the same,” the princess trails off, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes, “if Bowser stopped trying to romance me all the time; _yuck_.”

You and Shyster share a bemused look while Toadstool grumbles some more under her breath.

Remembering herself, she perks right up with a sweet smile. “Oops; sorry. I’m just glad to know you’re okay! It was a pretty rough battle, and you got hurt the worst…”

The embarrassed flush from earlier returns full-force, Feeling like the surface of the sun, you stutter, “U-uh, no; don’t worry about it! I—I’m a-okay! Th-thanks so much for healing me; I probably wouldn’t be—well, up a-and walking right now otherwise, _ha ha_!”

Toadstool thankfully brushes aside your general awkwardness and merely states it’s her duty to help those in need. You chat a little bit more about where her other friends are - out and about like you - before she waves you goodbye, checking out with her new dress in tow.

You and Shyster watch her exit, humming with a skip to her step. Once she’s out of sight, Shyster comments, “Wow. And here I was thinking how we met was a fluke—_watch it_!”

Ignoring his grumbling, you retract your foot and limp down another aisle. It takes a little bit to find what you’re looking for but your efforts are worth it when you find an exact replica of your yellow-and-blue-striped shirt; ah yes, the self-insert luck continues. You also decide to pick up some more shorts and even a new pair of shoes, since yours are looking pretty ragged. Alongside a small sewing kit Shyster picked out, your total doesn’t really make a dent in all your savings.

Your next stop is the grocer. Aside from the plethora of seafood, you opt for more travel-friendly, less easy-to-spoil foods like bread, jerked meat, hard cheeses and other dry stuff. That and you’ve eaten nothing but seafood aboard the Sunken Ship.

Dropping off your goods before heading out again to window shop the boardwalk’s plethora of shops, you and Shyster fill the silence. After asking what happened after you blacked out, he explains that Yaridovich did try to ‘finish the job’ but Johnny was having none of that; while the captain didn’t actively participate in the fight, he ensured you didn’t come to further harm. If anything, the few hits he _did_ get in resulted in the general backing off completely.

“‘Course it was pretty obvious he wanted to have a go at Yaridovich,” Shyster surmises. “Then again, he agreed with patches; that it was mustachio’s fight and not theirs.”

You thumb the bandana at your throat. “Ah...okay. Thanks for telling me.”

He shrugs. “It was tough, but we eventually got him. ‘S far as I know, he melted then went up in smoke. All the Star Pieces were recovered, so there’s that. No one...” He sighs. “No one else got hurt. Badly.”

You make an affirmative noise. “That’s...that’s good. I—Johnny and them; they left after Yaridovich…?”

After confirming that yes, the pirates were soon to leave once it was established you’d be fine with some rest, everything played out like you expected. Mario freed all the Seaside Town residents and were then offered rooms at the inn, free of charge. The fact they used one for your benefit makes your stomach squirm uncomfortably.

Inside the shop of another seamstress, Shyster compares towels and you make to buy a neat marine-themed pillowcase. Once you’ve rung up both your purchases, he offers to take all the stuff back to the room. “You’ve been looking at the water for the past hour,” he says. “Just go already; I’ll meet you there in a bit.”

You perk up immediately, glancing back at the shimmering beach. “Really?”

“What, do I look like your mother?” Shyster sniffs. “Besides, haven’t you wanted to come here since the beginning? Just try not to drown in the meantime.”

You laugh soundlessly.

Parting with a short goodbye, you take off for the sand with a pep in your step. You go the extra mile and remove your shoes and socks, relishing the feeling of warm sand between your toes. Yeah; this is infinitely better than the slippery stones back on the coast.

You ignore the moles and Toads scampering along the waterfront, finding solace by yourself. Planting your shoes on a few boulders, you do some cursory exploration. Aside from finding a few hermit crabs and abandoned seashells there isn’t much to see on the sand; a shame, really. But you do manage to see a few Blooper—wait, Bloober nannies swimming further out in the waters. A few Chee—er, Gobies breach too, but you can’t help the disappointment when you don’t see a piddly row boat further out, or even a tapered dorsal fin wrapped in stripes.

The cove housing the Sunken Ship rests on the far side of the beach. You wonder if you should go before shaking your head; _move on_, Johnny said.

With nothing else to see, you slowly but surely wade out into the oncoming tides.

The sand may be sun-warmed but the water is chilly, a stark contrast to the warmth innervating the air. It it weren’t for the unfamiliar surroundings and distinct lack of rolling fog, you’d think you were back home. But the cliffs here aren’t steep, and there isn’t any driftwood laying around for you to both sit on and enjoy the water splashing up your ankles.

Whoops. Again with the reminiscing…

...who are you kidding? The only reason you wanted to come see the beach here in Seaside Town was to remind you of the place where you spent most of your life. You thought it’d be familiar in the face of so much unfamiliarity, a comfort to your new situation.

It isn’t, not really. But you figure that’s a good thing, because you already feel at home here in the world of _Super Mario RPG_. You’ve managed to carve out a place for yourself and _damnit_ you enjoy it here. Bucket list complete-o.

You take a few more steps. The water comes up to your calves.

“Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”

You can’t seem to stop the scowl from twisting your lips. Luckily, you’re not facing him so you banish it and settle for rolling your eyes as you turn around.

“Do you _mind_?” You fidget in an attempt to stay upright when another wave buffets your shaky legs. Ignoring Geno’s remarkably unimpressed face, you go on. “I was obviously doing that ‘staring off into the distance’ thing and now any epiphany I was gonna have is lost forever. _Poof_, gone.”

You splay your fingers out to make your point. The deadpan stare you receive breaks your concentration and you burst into a fit of giggles.

“You seem to be in a better mood,” Geno states, leveling a thoughtful stare at you. “Do you really enjoy the beach that much?”

Your laughs peeter out. “Oh yeah, for sure. I—” Another wave washes over you, sending a delightful shiver up your spine; _feels like home_. “—I dunno. I’ve always loved the ocean and the closest I can get to it is at the beach. Kinda sucks being terrestrial, heh.”

Geno thankfully doesn’t comment on that. Glancing at the ocean, he says, “Well, I’m glad you’re fine, all things considered. Yaridovich was...difficult, to say the least.”

“I—please don’t. I already heard enough from Shyster, thanks.”

The spirit hums thoughtfully. “Still...thank you for helping us, even if you didn’t need to. And sorry—sorry for letting you get hurt like that.”

Geno startles a bit when you let out a wheezing sound that can’t decide whether it’s another laugh or scoff. “Uhhh, thanks, I guess…? B-but really, if it weren’t for you guys, I...y’know. So—thank _you_. Because...yeah.” _Why are you so lame when it comes to anything ever_?

The spirit looks off to the side with a wry grin. “I suppose. Even so, don’t think this deals with any sort of debt; we helped you because you needed it, simple as that. I’d like to imagine you’ve been doing the same.”

You scratch your cheek. “Huh...I-I guess, maybe.”

“So what are your plans now?”

You shrug. “Honestly? Right now is relaxation time; I _did_ come from the Mushroom Kingdom to see Seaside Town’s beach, after all. That and I’m still a bit sore, sooo...”

“I see.” He looks like he contemplating something which is magnified when he then crosses his arms. “Say, since you’re in such a good mood and this is probably the only time we’ve been amicable, why not join us?”

“Oh yeah, me and Shyster have been talking about that.” You nod sagely. “We think it’d be for the best, too. So sure, we’ll come along for the ride if you’ll let us.”

Geno sighs. “Right. Of course. Just thought I’d ask one last time—”

He makes to turn away before coming to an abrupt halt, cape flying as he whirls on you again. Red eyes wide with disbelief, he goes, “You...you want to actually join us? To retrieve the remaining Star Pieces and put and end to Smithy? _Truly_…?”

An embarrassed flush creeps up your neck despite the cold waters lapping at your legs. “D-did I stutter?” _Yes you did, idiot_!

“Hold on—” Geno’s stare dampens a bit but not enough to banish his surprise. “—I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. You’re willing to travel alongside the five of us from this point forward, up until I fulfill my mission?”

The embarrassment might as well be a beacon on your face at this point. Crossing your arms defensively, you ground out, “Y-yes, okay! Jeez, me and Shyster think it’d be, I dunno, beneficial for everyone? I-I still know what to expect for the most part, ah-and, y’know, I can do magic now; I can hold my own in a fight! Kinda; Yaridovich was an outlier and should not be counted—”

Geno interrupts your rambling. “I get it; really, I do. It’s just...I never expected you to agree, not after—”

“Me running away from you constantly?”

He sighs. “Yes, that. I just want to understand what changed between Booster Tower and now.” He looks pained for a split second before admitting, “Of course it’d make sense if you didn’t want to after all the things I’ve said or implied, so hearing you agree now…”

His red eyes seek out your own. “Why the change of heart?”

Your eyes drift over the gentle waves, off into the distance where the cove rests. “Honestly? Johnny beat the wishy-washy stuff outta me, I guess. Er, that sounds bad; let me rephrase: Johnny just...told me what’s what. Helped me even though he didn’t need to; he’s the one who taught me magic, after all. He basically told me to scram; go and explore the world a-and help you guys, so…”

Fingering the scarlet bandana draped around your neck, you smile. “Johnny said I need to repay Shyster for everything, so here I am, I guess. Even—even if this is my home too, now. I want to be stronger.”

You probably—_definitely_ rambled for a bit, but you figure Geno gets the big picture.

When you finally obtain the courage to face him, he’s not even looking at you. Red eyes pinned on the horizon and a warm grin adorning his face, he says, “I guess I should’ve given Johnny my thanks. Aside from assisting in the fight against Yaridovich, that is.”

Turning to you, Geno’s smile doesn’t wane and you wonder if you deserve such a sincere expression. “When I accepted the mission to retrieve the lost pieces of Star Road, I was told there would be someone on the surface. Someone who would be invaluable for my cause; someone who knew about me and my purpose here.”

You toe the sand. _Another heart-to-heart already, huh_…?

“I had no idea who it was,” he states. “At first, I even believed this mystery person to be Mario; he’s quite the celebrity back at Star Road. But then I remembered what my superiors told me; couldn’t have been him. And then I ran into you. Even then, I didn’t really know.” He shrugs, cape fluttering in the light breeze. “Then that Shy Guy started talking and everything became crystal clear.”

Geno has the decency to look just a little miffed when he complains, “Of course, I wasn’t told you’d take every available opportunity to avoid me. Least to say, that put a dent in my plans.”

“Hey! I helped...somewhat. Every now and then. Sometimes.”

The spirit raises a brow. “Guess I should count my lucky stars.”

You have no idea whether or not you should be offended by the remark, so you settle for ignoring it.

Geno shifts, uncrossing an arm to knead at his forehead with an expression you’d liken to being constipated. Glancing away with a sigh, he says, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that the choice is yours. If you really, _really_ want to travel alongside us—”

“I said as much a few times, yeah.”

Ah, _there’s_ the pissy Geno you’ve become accustomed to. Heck.

Still wearing his malcontent, he thrusts a single arm out. “If you’re so sure, then let’s shake on it.”

A few seagulls cry out overhead. In opposition to the cool waters brushing over your feet, the heat of anxiety alights in your gut. Time to enact the standard protocol when stressed: jokes galore. You wrinkle your nose before surmising, “Don’t make this seem like a deal with the devil.”

Geno’s expression doesn’t change save for him squinting his eyes suspiciously. “You’ve given me enough cause to err on the side of caution. Your aid would still be greatly appreciated, but your unpredictability is…” He coughs awkwardly. “You seem to be a trouble-maker, but it’s not like it would really affect us; Mario’s pretty similar, after all.”

You heave an exaggerated sigh. “Man, you think you have it bad? _I_ don’t have a clue half the time, _and_ I have to deal with myself _all_ the time.”

Geno’s face goes slack in disbelief and you don’t hesitate the slap your hand into his own.

With a fervent shake to seal the deal, you release his wooden appendage with a wave. “There we are; no take-backs! _Ha ha_!”

Your laughs pile up when the spirit, clearly still processing what he agreed to, deigns to stare down at his own fingers. He squints in either scorn or resignation. Your mirth must show because he grimaces when he looks up. A cursorary check and yup, you’re wearing a big, dumb grin. _Ha_! _That’s what you get for making me a self-insert_!

“Thank the _stars_ I won’t be your sole baby-sitter anymore.”

You startle with a totally not-shrill shriek and jump further into the water. Aghast and a little on edge, you shoot an accusatory glare at Shyster as does Geno, but for differing reasons. Probably.

Nonplussed as always, Shyster stands just barely out of the waves’ reach. How long was he even standing there?

He tilts his head at Geno. “Well, I sure hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Mr. Spirit. Just a quick tip: they tend to do things outta spite, so try not to goad them too much. I learned that the hard way.”

You mock gasp. “Rude.”

Geno looks between the both of you, settling for a quick shake of his head. “...for some odd reason, I don’t feel reassured. At all.” But a tired grin plays at his mouth when he then states, “But if I can deal with Mario and Bowser, who’s to say you’ll be anywhere near as grating as they are?”

Shyster scoffs “Don’t push your luck, buddy” at the same time you remark, “Do they fight a lot? I’d pay to see that.”

You’re on the receiving end of two deadpan stares.

Brushing the back of your neck and hating how your flush reaches back there, you defend yourself. “What? Don’t tell me the fight with Johnny wasn’t awesome.”

“On the contrary,” Geno drawls, “it wasn’t fun being on the receiving end of his trident.”

“Ah. Right you are.”

The spirit trails off. “Well, I guess I’ll go inform the others…” Here he lowers his gaze at you one last time, red irises gleaming in the afternoon sun. “You are planning on joining us, right? It’s...you don’t _have_ to—”

“What’s the point of running away from the inevitable?”

You’re surprised by how even your voice is. Given by Geno’s own eyes widening in tandem, you figure he is, too.

Fingering the hem of your shirt, you go on. “I just...I’d rather be here than, than somewhere else. I’d—I don’t wanna be left in the dark when—y’know. Plus,” you shoot a small smile down at Shyster, “if I can help my friends along the way, then what’s to lose?”

Looking back up to greet Geno’s stunned face, you sport a wider grin. “It’s a win-win, right?”

_It’s_ also _more false bravado than anything, but there’s always time to remedy that_.

“When you put it like that…” The spirit looks momentarily pained, brows furrowed before they relax. Returning your grin with a careful one of his own, he nods. “I don’t know whether to apologize or thank you, but I’m leaning toward the latter. So: thanks. Really.”

He then looks off to the side, clearly thinking about something. Crossing his arms yet again, he lowly admits, “I’ve been pretty selfish, haven’t I?”

The wide grin adorning your lips can’t be more genuine. “_Pssh_, you and me both.”

Geno glances down at Shyster before nodding again. Once the three of you make plans to reconvene at roughly dinnertime, he decides he should go look for the others and tell them the change of plans. Turning around in a flourish, he raises a hand in farewell before taking his leave off the beach and into town.

“...huh.” Shyster surmises. “Guess he’s not _so_ bad.”

“Wait a sec; isn’t that you basically admitting you’re cool with him? But I thought _I_ was your favorite…”

Shyster’s mask breaks out into a smattering of red. He grumbles a bit under his breath and you laugh, feeling like a massive weight has been lifted off your chest. Coupled with the familiarity of the oceanic scene, you feel on top of the world right now. Maybe now your general anxiety will be stemmed soon enough...y’know, aside from the fact you’ll soon be dealing with the main characters - including _Mario_ \- on a regular basis.

Hm. Maybe you didn’t think this through.

But when Shyster makes another quip about how if no one gets along he can just mug them before taking off, well, who’s to say you don’t burst out into another peel of laughter. In the end you know it’s for the best; more people - including the princess who’s a healer, _thank god_ \- means more security.

“Neato. Now—” You kick a spray of water at Shyster, who immediately balks and sputters. “—beach time!”

Indignant, he retorts, “_Please_, I can see your knee trembling from here. Need I remind you that you got stabbed yesterday and need to rest or _what_?”

“Aww, c’mon, don’t be a party-pooper. Why sleep when there’re seashells to collect?”

“I’m more than capable of dragging you back to the inn, just so you know.”

“...five more minutes.”

And if you eventually rope Shyster into digging around in the sand alongside you, searching for shells among other things, he doesn’t complain. Well, not much. And if you have to go back to the inn for more rest because he won’t shut up about it, that’s another story entirely...except not really.

*** * * * * * ***

Considering most of the group knows or has heard about you, joining their ranks wasn’t as tedious as you expected it to be. In fact, Mallow seemed pretty glad to see you were not only better, but going to help them out since “having a seer around sounds pretty handy!” That and the fact you’re a mage like him.

Aside from the fact Mario nearly set your butt ablaze that one time, he doesn’t seem to mind your presence. Which is, y’know, awesome because he’s _Mario_. In a similar vein is the princess, who believes “the more the merrier!”

And then there’s Bowser.

“Ain’t you the chump who fell off Booster’s place?”

Shifting your bag so the leash isn’t digging into your neck, you grimace. “I, uh. Hm. I guess when you put it like that...yeah. That’s me alright.”

The king of Koopas eyes you from top to bottom, rubbing his chin all the while. “And you’re the same punk who took a spear to the side and was up and walkin’ the next day?”

“...sure, okay. Yup. Pincushion-extraordinaire, at your service.”

Shyster makes his presence known by slapping your leg, but you ignore him and hope you’ve won the Koopa’s approval.

Bowser then breaks out into a huge grin, fanged maw wide as he slaps a hand into your back. You’re pretty sure it was meant to be in good fun but since he’s a giant turtle-dragon, the hit nearly fells you and you stumble a bit.

“_Gwar har har_!” he laughs. “For bein’ so tiny you sure are tough! Welcome to the Koopa Troop!”

Despite the fact you’re gonna wake up the next day with a Bowser-shaped handprint embedded into your back, you grin in tandem with him. The various faces of the others - Mario’s playful shrug and Toadstool’s giggles to be exact - result in your own laughter joining the air. The giddiness filling you up and warming you from the inside-out just adds to your elation. After all, isn’t this basically every self-insert’s dream?

Who knew stepping out of one’s own comfort zone could be so rewarding?

Because, as you glance off to the side only to see warm red eyes boring into your own watery ones, you know you’re not here just because you’d be useful. It’s a big part of it, sure, but Geno gave you the option to run away again after everything. But you’re here because you want to be, because you have the power to help those you’re close to, because—

You look down at Shyster. He returns your gaze with a tender exhale, patting your leg in silent understanding.

—because you’re not alone anymore.

And as you sit down at the same table as the others only to be included in their conversations, to be listened to whenever you decide to pipe up, you realize you’ve been missing out a lot. Sure, it’s barely been half an hour hanging around them but it’s reaffirming to know multiple people seem to enjoy your presence.

Over your breakfast of fluffy pancakes and juice, Geno asks you about what the next steps should be.

Swallowing a bite, you shrug. “Do...I mean, what do you wanna know? Like, where the next Star Piece is specifically, or—”

The spirit has, amazingly, zero ounces of annoyance when he playfully rolls his eyes. “Why am I not surprised. Even so, I get the feeling there’s more to it than just waltzing up to the sixth Star Piece.”

“You’d be right. Sooo…” you drawl dumbly, keenly aware of the...six pairs of eyes honed in on you. “Uh. Mu-maybe I could just, I dunno, explain where we should go next? It’s—to get to the next Star Piece, I mean…”

Quietly, you flush when you notice the confusion marring some of their faces. You sip your juice in an effort to cool off.

“Oh!” Mallow perks up with a smile. “You mean like there’s a bunch of steps we gotta take before we can get the next Star Piece? ‘Cause it’s seems like that’s all we’ve been getting up to...”

Ah yes, there’s the strangely insightfulness the prince seems to whip out at the most opportune times.

“Y-yeah! Exactly!” Trying not to choke, you go on. “We should be heading into Land’s End; it’s just beyond the cliffs surrounding Seaside Town.”

“Isn’t that the way we get to Grate Guy’s casino?” Shyster inputs and you nod in affirmation. He stares down at his empty plate in what you think is annoyance. “_Ugh_, I hate all those stupid bees.”

Geno crosses his arms. “So that’s one thing taken care of, but what about a destination? Is there somewhere we can stay over there?”

You make a so-so motion with your hand. “I-I mean, there should be...like, Monstro Town is hidden away in Land’s End. But I, um, don’t really—I don’t know how big Land’s End is...my gauge for that kinda stuff is…”

“Bad,” Shyster supplies and you take another sip of juice.

“So you’re sayin’ you don’t know how long it’ll take to get to this Monstro Town?” Bowser wilts a bit under the slew of speculative gazes now leveled at him. “What?” he retorts defensively, “I gotta know these things too! I’m a good leader to my troops, and knowing distance is key!”

Despite Mario looking disbelieving at the info, the princess coos. “_Ohhh_, what a big softie!”

As Bowser blunders under her comment, Geno turns back to you. “And once we reach Monstro Town, what then?”

You open your mouth to answer but Shyster beats you to the punch. “How about we focus on one thing at a time; take it easy for a bit. Knowing how you operate,” the Shy Guy gestures at the deadpan spirit, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d run ahead if you knew where the next Star Piece is.”

Geno’s disgruntlement doesn’t wane. “...I suppose you’re right. Then it’s settled—Monstro Town it is.”

It doesn’t take much longer for everyone to come to an agreement. Once breakfast in finished and everyone’s packed up their meager belongings - travelling light is key when you’re prone to fighting at the drop of a hat - you leave the inn. The townsfolk seem sad to see their heroes leave, but Mario simply tips his hat at them and that’s that. What a stud.

The trail that leads out of Seaside Town is steep but it allows you a minor reprieve; the longer it takes to reach Land’s End, the longer you can look back and see the sparkling ocean and the craggy cove.

When you finally reach the apex of the path, you pause and glance back one final time.

It’s...sad you never really got the chance to say goodbye to Stitches or Stripes. But you also consider it a blessing in disguise since farewells aren’t your kind of scene; too sentimental.

_Obviously_, you think to yourself as you will away the stinging behind your eyes.

Clutching your yellow canvas bag and fingering the scarlet bandana tied around your neck, you allow yourself a small smile. If it weren’t for both Mr. Shroomby and Johnny...who knows how long it would’ve taken you to realize this world is now your home, too. Too long, probably.

“Oi.”

Shyster tilts his head forward. The main five are grouped together talking amongst themselves, though both Geno and Mallow glance back at you two. The prince waves you over while the spirit allows himself a small smile.

“C’mon,” Shyster says, adjusting his backpack. “Let’s push on.”

You smile at his back before rushing forward to walk beside him.

_Yeah, home alright_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After nearly 100k words, the reader _finally_ does the proper self-insert thing and starts traveling alongside the main characters. Hooray!
> 
> Here, have some lore and character interactions (with much, _much_ more to come, lol).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> <strike>(Also I know it's technically 'Anchor's _Aweigh_,' but Aesthetics™.)</strike>


	13. Between Brine and Basin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a proper self-insert is a headache, reader discovers. Next on the news: revealing even _more_ personal details!

“Jus—just gimme a little more time!”

Geno shoots a withering stare at you while Bowser kicks one of those orange Gecko-like monsters in the background. “It’s already been several minutes,” the spirit drawls. “Is this hidden chest really so important?”

“Oooh trust me,” you say, wobbling on the floating tile, “it’ll be _so_ worth it.”

“I certainly hope so,” Shyster seethes in your grasp, eye holes narrowed. “I’m sick of being toted around like a sack of potatoes!”

You barely glance down at him. “I mean, that’s about how much you weigh; you’re pretty light.”

“Apparently, considering how you love throwing me around!”

“It’s for a good cause. Anyways—” You glance over at the others. “Er, how about a few more tries, yeah? It’s—it’s in a pretty tricky spot.”

Geno rolls his eyes and crosses his arms but agrees. Seems like he’s the only one malcontent since Mario and Bowser seem to be having a blast tearing apart any unlucky Gecko to approach, while Mallow and the princess converse among themselves under her parasol. You suppose the weather here in Land’s End _is_ pretty warm, since the chilly ocean breeze doesn’t reach this far inland.

Licking your lips in concentration, you heave Shyster up. “Okay, just a few more tries and then you’re off the hook, shortstack—_ack_. No kicking or I’ll drop you.”

You thrust Shyster up like in the _Lion King_ and hope he’ll find the invisible chest when he paws the open air. It takes a few more tries before you inch your way to the corner of the tile and lift him up one last time—and end up slamming the top of his head directly into it.

Despite his stunted cry of pain and the fact his eye holes are swirling, he does make an attempt to catch the small bottle that was knocked out. He misses and you hastily tuck him under one arm and do it yourself. You release a pleased sound as soon as your fingers wrap around the glass, shooting a grin up at a surprised Geno.

And then you lose your balance and tumble right off the floating tile.

You land on your back in a heap, clutching onto a still teetering Shyster. Thankfully the drop was only a few feet, but still; _ouch_.

Geno’s head pops over the edge of the nearby cliff and you shoot a thumbs-up. He takes one look at you before turning to address someone else. A moment later the princess drops down, hovering with her parasol with a look of worry.

With a pink glow, her warm magic innervates both you and Shyster until you injuries are no more. He gives her a gruff thanks and smacks you before you can do the same. “_That’s_ for nearly bashing my head in—”

“Consider us even, then,” is your terse, smarmy response.

“...really. You’re still hung up on that.”

“Aww, c’mon, it’s pretty funny! I met my best friend because he practically gave me a concussion,” you mention when the princess looks between you two curiously. Patting his head, you go on and gib, “Oh yeah, we basically beat each other up and then he threatened to rob me—but we’re good now!”

“Oh yeah?” Shyster’s miffed tone leaks through his mask. “And what about that time I saved your ass from getting skewered?”

“Ah yes,” you croon, “my knight in shining armor.”

The princess eyes the Shy Guy whose mask betrays his exasperation. With a giggle she quips, “My, it seems like the two of you have had as much as an adventure as we have!”

“So what was even in that chest?” Shyster inquires, looking down at your hand.

You grin and present the small glass bottle with a flourish, admiring the glittering scarlet potion within. “_Ta-dah_! Here we have some Red Essence; this stuff’ll make you invisi—invincible for, uh…” You scratch your cheek. ‘Three turns’ won’t fly since battles here are _not_ turn-based. “...um, a short while…? I’m actually not too sure how long.”

“Any little bit helps,” Geno states, leaping down from his perch and sticking the landing. Show-off. He leans down and offers you a hand, which you accept because you’re on semi-good terms now. Hoisting you back up to your feet, you deposit Shyster onto the ground and thank the doll.

He shakes his head. “No worries. I think you should keep that for yourself; we’ve collected a few of those too. At least now we know what they do.” He looks strangely bashful when he admits, “Mario wanted to try one out and just ended up sparkling for a bit...not that we knew any better.”

“Well, lucky for us we’ve got a seer on our side!” Mallow chirps from the rocky cropping. You shoot a thumbs-up at the young prince and he returns it with a sweet smile of his own. Aww.

It’s then when you hear a subdued “_Grah-ha-haa_!” from Bowser and a muted _whoosh_. It’s the only warning you have before one of those Gecko monsters is hurled over the edge of the cliff and directly onto your face.

“_Argh_! Get offa me, you overgrown lizard!”

Unfortunately for you, Gecko monsters have tiny claws instead of the Van der Waals interactions you’d expect, so your face feels like it’s going through a paper shredder. Try as you might, prying it off is not working. Not like any of your spells have enough finesse to harm the dumb thing without also running the risk of harming you too.

“Hold still, I think I’ve got it—!”

“Wait, princess, don’t—”

_Smack_!

Faintly, you register the feeling of weightlessness before you once again collapse onto your back. You hear both Geno and Shyster chastising the princess - really, Shyster is berating her pretty harshly - and you groan, clutching your nose. If the abrupt plume of smoke is any indication, seems like the Gecko’s gone, but your _face_…

“Is—am I bleeding…? _Augh_.”

Warm magic makes itself known and the pain centered around your nose thankfully dissipates. What doesn’t leave is the squealed apologies Toadstool is littering over you, so much so Geno informs her that you’re fine—see, look.

Wrinkling your nose and sitting up, you look over to Shyster in confusion. He shoots a small look at the princess and explains, “Princess over here just smacked you with her umbrella. And here I was thinking _I_ was the only one who walloped you good.”

“I’m sorry, really,” Toadstool frets over you and you shoot her a tired grin.

“I-it’s fine. I mean, I’ve been through worse, so. Yeah.”

Shyster smacks your arm lightly and you struggle to not preen when he chastises, “Too soon.”

“I was actually thinking about that time I sparred with Johnny and almost bled out, but you’re right.”

Geno shakes his head again and offers you a grimace. “You really do attract a lot more trouble than not, huh?” Glancing off to the side where a Shyster solemnly nods, the spirit looks you over once more. “It hasn’t even been a day and you’ve already managed to injure yourself twice.”

“Man, wait until we get to Belome’s Temple. Or further into Land’s End; those ants are pretty tough.”

The doll looks positively deadpan. “Right. Well, only way to know for certain is to move on.”

He offers to help you up again and you accept yet again. It’s a bit strange to feel warmth thrumming gently through his wooden fingers, but he’s a star spirit so he must be pretty warm. You’re just a little bit jealous because the same warmth seems to have left you long, long ago. But if you can leech off anyone else’s light so long as they let you...well.

For once, basking in the gentle heat of another’s brilliance doesn’t seem so daunting.

*** * * * * * ***

It takes the better part of the day to make it through the rocky mountains and set up a quick camp in the grassy plains once night fell. Turns out all those bags the others carried weren’t for show, since Mario ended up setting up a tent much like Shyster’s for Mallow and the princess to share; the plumber himself slept in a simple sleeping bag out in the open. You and Shyster did snicker when you found out Bowser simply tucked into his massive shell when he went to bed.

Although traveling through the grasslands of Land’s End ends up consuming more time than you’d expect - curse that Shaman, their bridge mini-game, and Mario’s perchance for said mini-game! - your group finally ends up at the arid desert.

“_Ugh_, finally. At least this area’s not so much bigger than what I remember.”

“_Stars_, if you start with that again…”

You settle for shooting a grin down at Shyster who just hefts his backpack in response. He eyes the nearby palm trees and swirling sands with distaste, stating, “I don’t even understand why that dumb clown decided to make his casino on the other side of the desert.” He pauses thoughtfully before shrugging. “Actually, knowing how his brother operates, I’m not too surprised. Sadistic as—_oof_!”

Clicking your tongue and retracting your foot, you nod to Mallow. “There are children present, you heathen.”

“...fair enough.”

“Wait a sec,” Bowser chimes from in front of you. “You two have been to the casino? ‘Ey, plunger boy! Doncha have that Bright Card we got from that clown?”

Mario shoots a disgruntled look first at the Koopa then shifts it onto Shyster and you; _ha ha_, ‘plunger boy.’ The man scratches his head and begins sifting through the various pockets of his own bag.

“How’d you manage to find the casino?” Geno turns, looking at you. “It took us over a day to make it this far, and I sincerely doubt the pirates allowed you the same courtesy as their captives.”

Despite the ugly grimace making its way onto your face - they’re friends, dammit! - you shrug. “Took us about a day since there’re plenty of waterways nearby. Least to say, being a pirate with a boat sure does come in handy when it comes to bypassing du—uh, areas. Yup.” Do _not_ call them dungeons, you floundering idiot!

“Still ended up fighting our way through droves of those bees and ants,” Shyster inputs, distaste clearly evident in his voice.

Geno allows himself a half-smirk when he jovially states, “Good thing we have a hasty plumber and competitive Koopa willing to do most of the fighting for us. My magic reserves haven’t been this high in a while.”

The three of you turn when you hear a racket. Sure enough, Boweser holding up a Bright Card and keeping the stubby plumber at arm’s length, much to the latter’s frustration. It’s then when the Koopa declares you all should “pipe down and relax a bit at the casino,” to which Toadstool hastily agrees, mentioning her poor feet.

“Er, aren’t casinos…” Mallow hesitates, “will they even let me in? I’m no adult…”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Shyster answers. Patting your leg, he goes, “If they let baby-face here in then there shouldn’t be a problem with you.”

“Uh...security almost _didn’t_ let me in…”

Bowser abrupts shoves himself into your small circle. “You chumps worry too much! ‘Sides, haven’t these two pipsqueaks already been there? It’ll be fine, just you losers wait!”

Geno looks to you. “Do you remember the way there? A break does sound like an appealing idea.”

You make a so-so motion while Shyster says, “Been there myself a lot more than them, so I can lead the way.”

You avoid Geno’s lingering gaze and question likely held in those red irises. Yeah, you made a lot of assumptions and made quite the ass of yourself to boot, but you don’t really wanna be reminded of the time you separated yourself from Shyster. If anything, you don’t want to admit to the fact you treated the Shy Guy like shit.

Judging by how Shyster is steadfast in his refusal to meet the spirit’s next gaze, he doesn’t want to bring it up either.

In the end, everyone takes to hovering behind the Shy Guy while you walk besides him. Unbidden, he recounts the few times he traversed over the rugged plains and blistering desert alongside Stripes and Stitches, but it’s quiet enough it’s clearly not meant for the others. You figure he’s just trying to make you feel better and it works to a degree.

An hour seems to whizz by by the time your little entourage finally emerges from the caverns beneath the desert and onto the path leading to the casino.

As soon as you approach the grand doors and the security Toads guarding them, Mario is quick to whip out the Bright Card from his overalls. And just like that everyone is let in without hassle, but you do sense the Toad’s sunglass-covered stares lingering on both you and Mallow. Man, if only your ID came here with you.

Shyster is quick to give everyone a general run-down of all the establishments while they oogle the glittering interior. “Just don’t get too tipsy and we can gamble to our heart’s content,” he surmises, clearly looking at Bowser who wrinkles his nose.

Turns out the Mushroom Kingdom’s hero and princess are avid gamblers, if their immediate approach to the center table is anything to go by. And sure, a few of the other patrons also rush to get an autograph from the legendary plumber himself, but what surprises you is they also instantly recognize the local princess; so much for going incognito. She just smiles at them and puts a finger to her lips. Some winks later and the patrons stumble away, clearly giddy having met both celebrities.

You watch Bowser also rush to the central table alongside Shyster, laughing soundlessly when some of the patrons nearly fall over themselves at the sight of the Koopa.

Turning to Geno, you ask, “A-are you gonna join them, ooor…? Wait. Do you—can you even gamble?”

The spirit does remarkably well at imitating wrinkling his nose considering his face is made of wood, but you digress. “I’ve already been taught a few card games by them,” he huffs, “so maybe I’ll join in later. What about you two?”

Mallow shrugs, clearly taking in all the sights and feeling a tad overwhelmed, if his stiffness says anything. “I dunno. What do you like to do here, seer?”

Offering the young prince a quick grin, you say, “Glad you asked! Lemme show you guys.”

And that’s how you find yourself seated at a table near the refreshments bar, happily sipping away on some sort of tropical fruit juice blend. “Gotta be a paying customer to stay here, after all,” you quip.

“Gee, thanks for the drink!” Mallow chirps. “It’s a real shame Geno can’t have one.”

The doll just shrugs, nonplussed. “Comes with the territory of possessing a body that’s not mine.”

You can’t help the small snicker that escapes, but you don’t try to explain it and just settle for taking another sip of your icy drink.

“My, my, if it isn’t my brother’s most precious seer!”

Rendered into a sputtering, choking mess, you struggle for breath while also trying to maintain some semblance of control. Making a scene is not something you’re completely comfortable with. Like, at all.

Once you feel up to snuff, you shoot a hopefully heated glare over the various flora planted in the divider. “What do _you_ want?”

Grate Guy smiles back in a plaintive manner. “Hm hm, I can see why my brother refers to you as his spitfire. A feisty one even after I lent you my ears last time we crossed paths!” He leans further to eye both Mallow and Geno, who return with wary stares of their own. “And I see you’ve traded in your fishy friends for those of the local heroes! Finally decided to adhere to your script and help save the lands?”

Aaand you’re back to sputtering like a fool. “Y-you knew?!”

The clown breathes out a waning laugh, pitched and irritating. “_Ohoho_, it was quite obvious, dear seer! Especially so now that you’ve taken to the doll at your right; what other reason would you have to be in his good graces if not to aid his mission? He _did_ make that crystal clear during our little spar, after all.”

Ignoring the painted grin the clown is aiming at him, Geno’s displeasure is apparent. “Don’t put words in my mouth. Besides, I gave them a choice—”

“A cruel mercy, I’m sure,” Grate Guy interjects, still grinning away. You suppress a shiver.

The clown continues spritely in the face of Geno’s glare. “Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. But I can’t deny how utterly drab it must be to know what awaits at the end of your journey.”

You freeze and hope the pure terror isn’t too apparent on your face.

Grate Guy remains unfazed even when Geno attempts to interrupt, tone clearly failing to hide his own fury. “How drab indeed,” the clown speaks loudly and clearly, cutting off the spirit, “to have a world with no trouble; your scaly friend on the floor hardly counts, no offense.”

Geno quells his words when it becomes apparent Grate Guy isn’t going the way you thought he was. Or he knew damn well what he was doing and was just trying for a rise. You bet it was the latter. _Ha_, gambling pun.

“Why, with all the chaos Smithy and his little troupe is causing,” the clown muses, “my business is fit to burst at the seams! My customers wish to find some solace in these tough times, and what better place than a fancy resort where your troubles melt away? If I may be so bold, the restaurant here is pretty good; good enough to spend a fortune on, _hee hee_!”

“Probably stupid expensive,” you quip. “All casinos are pretty much the same in that regard.”

Grate Guy smiles. “Considering how much your little friend seems to win every time he comes, I’m sure it’ll be no trouble footing the bill, dear seer.”

You snort at that, eyeing the central floor and seeing the tiny figure of Shyster. Playing some sort of card game with stacks of chips involved, from the looks of it.

“Um.” The three of you turn to look at Mallow, whose mouth is twisted when he returns the clown’s stare. “Is there something you wanted…? We’re not here for another fight, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Oh no no no,” Grate Guy laughs. “Though I will admit that prospect is promising, I’m afraid this casino is my main priority at the moment. As for my interruption…”

The clown reaches down and you can’t see over the divider and various flowers springing up from it. He retrieves whatever it is and then—

“Wh-huh?” You blink stupidly. “M—for me?”

“Consider it a gift from my brother,” he says, shoving the sealed envelope toward you. “And me, if you desire.”

Weirded out and trying not to show how odd it seems to be receiving a gift from two bosses who also happen to be equally strange clowns, you accept. Ah, there you go again, seemingly forgetting the brothers are very much their own people and not some characters who appear to the player only when convenient. They’re very real, just like you.

“Well, go on.” Looking away from the pristine paper in your grasp, Grate Guy goads you on with a wide grin. “Open it.”

Ignoring how both Geno and Mallow lean forward to get a better look, you rend the wax seal - imprinted with an impression of the brothers’ face, funnily enough - obsolete. Inside is a neatly folded piece of paper and some sort of accessory.

“Hey, didn’t Booster give us one of those?” Mallow pipes up to which Geno nods. Oh, then that must mean it’s—

“Right you are, little puffball,” the clown says, ignoring the dirty look the prince is sending his way. Addressing you, he goes on, “This here is one of Booster’s Amulets; he offered both my brother and I one when we agreed to work for him. But I’m curious to see what my brother wrote to you…”

At the subtle prodding, you ignore the red paper-like pin and open the note. Your eyes quickly scan over it and you can’t help the tiny laugh masquerading as an exhale.

_To my little spitfire,_

_My brother told me all about your gossip and I regret not being there to add my own input! You are oh so fun to torment, after all. Perhaps this token will put me in your good graces more so than him; I can only hope! _

_Remember: your role is an important one, so do not fret when it comes to the curtain’s closing; even beyond your exit of the stage, you won’t be easily forgotten._

Knife Guy had the audacity to not even sign with his name, instead using a cute scribble of one of his trademark curved blades to end his note. Another blubbering breath escapes and you reign in the familiar burning behind your eyes. Too embroiled in your emotions, you barely register whether the surge of goosebumps is from elation or fear.

Unable to help yourself and in spite of your shuddering breath, you joke, “What is it with others leaving me notes?”

A stiff hand lends itself to your shoulder. You gently fold the note up, replacing it into its envelope before shoving it inside your bag. Calm enough to face him, you offer Geno a small smile and he returns it.

“I…” You look to Grate Guy. “Thanks. Really. Still, how…?”

“Do you remember what I told you last time?”

You pause, thinking back. “Oh...yeah.”

“Good. It’s still true, perhaps now more than ever.” The clown smiles another of his benign, meaningless smiles. “As for your question: Don’t you know? My brother and I are mercenaries at heart; once our curiosity is piqued, there’s hardly anything we can’t figure out. Just be glad our target this time isn’t one of our ire!”

Geno releases his grip to instead lean on both his arms. “Sounds like you could’ve helped too.”

“Oh no no no; I do love a good drama and your adventure is turning into quite the fine one! The fear of the unknown, the raw suspense...being a member of the audience is a lot more rewarding! Well, at least to both my brother and I.”

The spirit grumbles a bit before shrugging; not really a loss considering how the clown brothers are in general. Obtuse to a fault.

“Well then!” Grate Guy offers your trio one last grin. “I fear I spent too long away from my own station. If this is the last time we meet, it was a pleasure seeing you once more, dear seer! Almost like meeting an actor before they make it big, _hee hee_! Take care!”

And just like that, the clown turns and leaves for the central floor, disappearing behind loitering patrons. It’s an odd experience, missing him and his funky purple pajamas already. Despite his eccentricities - him and his brother - they’ve both offered you advice which had helped you immensely.

“That was pretty weird, but I guess he’s alright,” Mallow summarizes. The prince turns to you and glances down at the Amulet. “Are you gonna equip that? It’s pretty useful against other mages; their spells seem to be a lot weaker if they manage to getcha.”

Huh. So that’s what it does; all you could remember is the description of it being stinky or whatever. Shrugging it off and thanking the young Nimbian - hey, it works - you string the Amulet onto the leash of your bag. You wonder if it’ll even work in conjunction with your Safety Badge because the last time you checked, two accessories wasn’t exactly viable. Eh, it’s the real world; it’ll probably be fine. And taking into account who’s in Monstro Town…

“Alrighty,” you start, pushing your mostly-full glass away. “How’s about we relax some more and enjoy a hot meal while we’re here? I—I’ve got some money on me. Also I’m pretty hungry.”

Mallow looks keen on the idea while Geno exhales. “Guess I’ll go tell the others,” the spirit says before making for the floor.

Your glee must show because the prince is quick to giggle. Yeah, paying one last visit to the casino seemed like a great idea; you’ve gotta thank Bowser later.

*** * * * * * ***

After another hour or so at the casino - Grate Guy was right; the food _was_ pretty dang good - your group finally delved into the caverns beneath the desert of Land’s End.

“Alright, so lemme get this straight—” Bowser glances down at you from the corner of his eye. “We’ve got two options here: gettin’ a bunch of treasure _or_ gettin’ to beat the tar outta some guy called Bologna—”

“It’s actually Belome,” Mallow inputs. The small prince shoots you an uneasy look. “Do we really have to fight him? Last time was…” And then he promptly falls into a fit of shivers.

You stop your laughs and make a so-so motion. “Actually, we have to beat Belome in order to get to Monstro Town...at least I’m pretty dang sure. Like, a solid 85% sure.”

“I’m all for taking everything this place has to offer,” Shyster pipes up from your side. “But are you sure there’s not some catch like with the Forest Maze?”

You think on it a bit more. Sure, your memory isn’t the best, but it’s good enough and frankly, that’s all that matters at this point. “Uhhh...hm. Y’know, I think you’re right. Pretty sure the treasure room is blocked off until we find the key—”

“Well I say we find the stinkin’ key!” Bowser guffaws a bit. Jabbing a thumb at himself, he crows, “I dunno about you chumps, but having your pockets lined with cash is the only way to go! We’d be set for a while, and not to mention the good eatin’, _gwar har har_!”

You sneak a shit-eating grin down at Shyster and even lean down to nudge him a bit. He shrugs you off and quips, “Big guy’s right, at least in my book. They say money can’t buy happiness, but it might as well.” After a beat he asks, “Still, are you sure there’s not a catch to gettin’ to the treasure like in the Forest Maze?”

“Hmmm…” You faintly recall the key being dropped due to a cutscene, but where…? Didn’t it happen in Monstro Town or something? If it does, then that means you can’t access the treasure until you beat Belome.

“So it’s settled.”

You glance at Geno who’s eyeing you with some form of confusion. “We’ll make for Monstro Town first; once we’re settled we can come back and see if there’s anything important.”

Mario nods once, but it’s pretty obvious he’s keen on the idea of more treasure. Then again, he did jump for joy when he found a hidden chest with a frog coin. Seems like the guy isn’t interested in money for money’s sake, but more so for the possibility of buying supplies and better equipment. Read: he was pretty bummed when Shyster spoke about the slew of hammers and other weapons in Johnny’s vault.

Bowser huffs. “Hopefully this Belome guy puts up a fight; all the enemies in here have done nothin’ but waste my time!”

Unable to help yourself, you comment, “Well, hopefully the experience does something for you.”

No one else seems to get the joke, but you relish in it anyways as you venture further into the halls of Belome Temple.

It takes a bit more to reach the rooms you recall distinctly; mainly the one with all the replicas of Belome’s head. Sure enough, there’s a lone Shaman who’s willing to read a fortune for a paltry fee of 50 coins. Considering how much the enemies around here drop, coupled with the several hidden chests you’ve managed to reveal, you’re relatively stable financially.

“So is this the fortune that determines if we get to see Belome? Or is it a different one?” Geno asks.

“Pretty sure it’s a different one. This one’ll determine if we get a useful item or get ambushed by a couple of enemies.” At the spirit’s deadpan look clearly requesting for an explanation, you oblige. “Uh...there’s specific patterns for the items or enemies, but—”

“You mean it’s like a game of slots?” Shyster pipes up.

“...I guess so. Not like I know anything about slots or casino games in general.”

“What he means,” Geno interrupts before Shyster can give you an earful, “is that we’re guaranteed to either encounter an item or enemy. At least that’s what I gathered from you. Now the question is which pattern will give us an item rather than—”

“Alright! Here’s your fortune—”

Your trio glances back only to see the others gathered around the Shaman, clearly waiting for the prize. Pursing your lips because they didn’t even think to include you guys, you strut up to them alongside an equally miffed Geno and Shyster. You watch the Shaman unravel the page; a quick glance shows the letters are squiggly and completely indecipherable. Huh. Obviously there are different languages in the world of _Mario_ like with the Shy Guys, but does that mean there’s also a bunch of unique written alphabets too…? You should ask Shyster.

The Shaman’s strangely squeaky voice drifts from their heavily shadowed face. “If you proceed through the pipe in the next room, you’ll have plenty of good things to look forward to. Well, my job is done! Hope that helps!”

And just like that, they vanish in a plume of glittering white smoke. Now if only _you_ could teleport with your magic.

“Wow, I guess we got lucky,” Mallow chirps. The princess and Mario both nod in tandem.

You promptly ruin the mood by groaning. You very distinctly remember that particular fortune leading to an enemy encounter.

“...I’m guessing that’s not a good fortune to have,” Geno guesses and you push a long breath out your nose. You nod.

“Looks like things got a bit more exciting,” Bowser says, doing that weird thing where he rotates his shoulder like he’s stretching it. “Time to strut my stuff! Just you watch, princess!”

Contrary to his gleeful boasting, the Toadstool wrinkles her nose in clear distaste. She glances down only see Mario mirroring her. They share a quick smile before following Bowser’s lead, with her mentioning how the plumber’s “usually as eager to fight” as the king of Koopas himself.

Turns out the resultant encounter is a straightforward one: a roomful of those weird K-9 things. There’s about a dozen of the robots scattered about and you ready your magic with another sigh. Wasn’t it only, like, three of them in-game? Well, you guess here in reality, all the fights will be made that much more of a hassle. Case and point, Yaridovich.

But against a team of seven, the dogs don’t stand a chance. Your magic stores are still high enough to be a threat in the oncoming boss fight, but you won’t deny you’re still relying on the physical fighters to do most of the heavy lifting.

“Are we nearing the end of this place?” Geno asks, face the mask of fatigue; he has been using up his magic from the looks of it.

“Pretty soon—oh hey, I think this’s the last room!”

You limp ahead and sure enough, the golden bricks lead down to what can only be the elevator to Belome’s encounter. With a tired grin, you wave everyone over before you descend onto the lift. A short, cramped ride down later, you find yourself at the breadth of a hallway. An innocuous paper rests at the entrance.

Mallow goes to pluck it from the ground, unraveling the red ribbon and glancing over it. “‘Mmm, I’m so hungry! Wish I had something to eat!’...what is that even supposed to mean?”

“It means we’re gonna go beat up Belome in a bit,” you surmise, far more cheeky than what you’re actually feeling. Honestly, you just want to get out of this dumb dungeon and get some seriously needed sleep in Monstro Town.

“Yuck...I hope he doesn’t eat me again.”

“Well, you do look the best outta all of us, fluffy.” Bowser crosses his arms and states, “I hope he chokes on my spikes before he even gets the chance to eat me.”

Toadstool and Mario nod in agreement before Shyster taps your leg. “Woah woah woah, wait; you never said anything about this guy eatin’ us! What’re we about to walk into?”

You try to not wilt, now under the attention of six people. “Ah...well, I mean—Mallow and Mario already fought the guy; they’d know more than me. Probably.” Looking between the two in question, you ask, “Did he make any clones of you?”

They exchange a confused glance and shake their heads.

“Oh. Well, I guess the only thing that’s different for sure, for sure is that he can make clones outta the ones he ‘eats.’” You drop your air quotations and explain, “Not like he actually swallows or anything; spits you back out relatively unharmed...I think. B-but aside from all that, he probably has some strong spells. Not...not too sure, though.”

“So melee fighters are the most at stake for being dinner,” Shyster remarks. “Ugh, great. Least I know enough to mute the guy ahead of time.”

You nod along with him and glance down the hallway. You can’t make out anything beyond the first few feet since it’s drenched in the darkest of shadows. That’s...not what you were expecting. But like you’ve been telling basically everyone, you don’t know everything. Then again, you’re pretty certain you were supposed to receive the fortune before you boarded the elevator, so. Whatever.

Geno’s hand releases a series of small _whirrs_ and _clicks_ until a single rod is sticking out of his wrist. A small pulse of magic later and a small light flashes like a candle. “Alright, time to get rid of Belome so we can finally get to Monstro Town.”

But as soon as your group stumbles just a few feet into the darkness, the ground quakes just a smidge. You ignore the tiny adrenaline boost and exchange a quick look with Shyster. Geno turns, sweeping his light around to ward off the shadows but the same golden bricks greet your eyes.

Toadstool’s voice breaks the quiet. “What was—”

She then devolves into a gasp as unseen torches on the walls flare to life, one by one, until the entire hallway is lit.

Your group glances at one another while Geno’s hand shifts back into, well, his hand. “That was...unexpected,” he states, red eyes narrowed at the far doorway. “Let’s move on; the sooner we get out of this place the sooner we can rest.”

A few murmured agreements later and you find yourselves in a tiny room with a single pipe. It’s painted the same gaudy gold as everything else in the place seems to be, so there’s another difference you suppose. Still…_eurgh_, doesn’t change the fact you’re not fond of pipes.

Shyster looks up at you one last time. “Any other info we should know before fighting this guy?”

“Uhhh...I don’t—I don’t think so…?”

He looks you over a bit. “Is he as nuts as Yaridovich, or—”

You wave your hands, keenly away of the mortification likely showing on your cheeks. “O-oh, no, no no, I’m pretty sure he’s not _nearly_ as bad—right, Mallow?”

The prince crosses his arms. “He _did_ try an’ eat me. But he didn’t seem too much like the spear guy, least to me.”

Shyster’s mask doesn’t reveal his feelings on the matter. Jabbing an arm at you, he growls, “Just try to stay outta the way and hopefully us close-range fighters can deal with him. Wouldn’t want clones of mages being used against us.” At that he shoots a quick look to Toadstool and Mallow, who nod their heads in agreement, the latter with more vigor.

With all your inventory checked and a final warning to equip any trueform pins lest you get transformed into a scarecrow, you file into the pipe one by one.

You land with far less decorum than everyone else, but that’s to be expected; your knee is pretty busted. But you hastily climb to your feet once Shyster offers you a hand, especially since Belome’s standing just a few meters away.

“Well, would you look at that! A bunch of snacks decided to drop in, and just in the nick of time, too! I’m _starving_.”

Surprisingly enough, it’s Mallow who’s the first to raise his weapon defiantly. Froggie Stick held at the ready, he announces, “W-we already beat you before, so once more won’t be that hard—”

“Oh…?” Belome is as indescribable in real life as he is in-game, but it doesn’t really matter since he’s kinda gross both ways. “Wait a second; aren’t you that little marshmallow in the sewers? I remember you.”

He licks his snout, the slobber already pooling in his mouth from the sounds of it. “No distinct flavor, but not too bad either...and the texture _was_ pleasing to my palate…”

“_Eugh_,” Shyster gripes below you, mace held in his arms already. “You really weren’t kidding about this guy, huh…?”

“Man, poor Mallow,” is your brilliant response.

“Alright, enough blabber!” Bowser pounds his fists together alongside Mario, who raises his fists in tandem. “We could do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way, but we’re gettin’ to Monstro Town one way or another!”

Belome’s four eyes zone in on the Koopa king. “Ahhh, but no one gets by me without paying tribute. And it looks like I’m about to partake in a feast, courtesy of…_you_!”

It’s the only warning before he opens his maw and slams his long tongue down hard enough to crack the golden bricks underfoot.

Luckily, everyone managed to dodge the preemptive lash. Too slow in retracting his tongue, Belome is forced to suffer Toadstool’s retaliation wherein she stabs it with the tip of her parasol. Preoccupied with the pain and the various melee fighters swarming around him, you scamper behind Belome to cast your spells at a safe distance.

Belome suffers a bit when Bowser yanks Mario outta the air only to hurl the heavyset plumber at the monster’s face, but nothing seems to faze him for long. Heck, even a swing of Shyster’s mace to his snout doesn’t do much, save for angering him even more. You’re thankful Toadstool is there after he smacks the Shy Guy into the bricks shortly thereafter.

Mallow and you hang out near the back of the room, intermittently casting your spells. While the prince is still skilled at somehow only hitting Belome with his ranged thunder attacks, you’ve settled for throwing a few Diamond Saws here and there since it minimizes you accidentally Storming anyone else into the ceiling.

You barely notice Belome opening his slobbering mouth to slam his excessively long tongue down yet again. Before the organ can smack you into next week, a weight shoves itself against you and forces you out of the way. No sooner do you stumble backward does the tongue do its thing, getting dust and minor debris everywhere.

Prying a bit more magic to your hands, you cast a very minor version of Water Blast. You watch as Belome’s tongue grows redder and redder until he yelps and retracts it once more. With any luck, if his tongue keeps getting abused then he won’t want to eat any of you.

“Phew,” you exhale. Turning around, you shoot Geno a quick grin. “Thanks for the save!”

The spirit nods. “No problem. Keep up the casting; any openings you make won’t go to waste.” And just like that he dashes off to the other end of the room, where he holds his arms out. As soon as another of Mallow’s lightning spells rain down with a crackle, his forearms rocket off and into the side of Belome’s face.

Belome growls, using his stubby paw to swat away Mario and Toadstool. Luckily for Shyster, he’s out of range enough such that the monster doesn’t spare him a glance, instead glaring at Bowser. “Ough, I’m so hungry...I can’t fight on an empty stomach, so you’ll have to do!”

And just like that, Belome’s jaws open wide enough to swallow a bewildered Koopa king whole.

“Stars above—”

You watch a hurried Shyster raise an arm and chant something in his born language. He then points aggressively at Belome and a sound not unlike twinkling bells rings out ominously at the same time the space around the monster distorts ever so slightly. Was...that had to be his mute spell, right…?

Belome briefly halts his mastications. He turns to Shyster and in the same moment spits Bowser out. “Trying to mute me, eh? Not like your weak magic can halt mine! Now watch this—”

Aaand he puckers his mouth before spitting a huge glob of spit onto the floor. Gross, yo.

Perhaps even more gross than that is how said puddle shifts until it’s a standing replica of Bowser, right down to the normal grimace adorning his maw. You can only you’re gawking just as badly as the real Bowser is, still on the ground and glistening with spit.

The fake Bowser crosses its - his? - arms and stomps. “_Grr_...stupid Smithy takin’ over my stinkin’ castle...and then my troops…” He shakes his head and his frown turning into something more neutral. Pouting, he murmurs, “Hopefully they’re havin’ an easier time than me…”

But as soon as the clone’s eyes drift ever so slightly until a rattled Mario slides into view, his mannerisms change completely. Eyes wide and brows drawn, he growls lowly, “_Mario_.”

He also immediately tries to deck the plumber with minimal success; Mario just jumps out of the way and the two ensue into a mano-a-mano brawl.

A rumbling laugh startles you away from the two, courtesy of one weird dog-monster-thing. “Spicy on the outside yet sweeter the more you eat...not bad!”

While Bowser’s clone dukes it out with Mario - and the real Bowser, who declares “There’s only one me, pal!” - Toadstool attempts to mute Belome too. Unfortunately, her magic isn’t strong enough to cancel out his, since she’s the next victim of the cloning process. So now there’s a Bowser clone spewing fire everywhere and a Toadstool clone casting various status spells which, thankfully, are repelled by your safety badge.

You stall your casting to pry a sleeping Mallow away from the edge of the battlezone. Once you take up a stance so anything would have to get past you first, you resume your casting alongside Geno, who’s still focusing on Belome. You glance over the battlefield after summoning a Storm beneath Belome, thankful that both Shyster and the real Toadstool are gunning after her clone because it’s also trying to heal both Belome and the Bowser clone.

Despite its best efforts, the Bowser clone is defeated, leaving a worn-looking Mario. The real Bowser levels a smug grin down at the resultant pile of slobber. “Gwar har, no one can beat the original!”

The party turns to the Toadstool clone, who doesn’t really put up much of a fight despite complaining about everything and anything, from the humidity to how difficult it is to be taken seriously by her servants. Which is kinda dark, now that you think about it, but empathy doesn’t really have a place in battle.

Even with Belome casting his own spells - damn you, Aurora Flash! - the Toadstool clone and her heals fail to ward off her inevitable demise. You’re running low on magic yourself, but it looks like Belome’s on the ropes so you continue hurling a Diamond Saw whenever there’s a large enough opening.

“_Ugh_, what got me…?”

You turn around, glancing back before offering to help Mallow up. “I think you got hit with one of the Toadstool clone’s sleeping spells. You okay, lil’ guy?”

Mallow shifts a bit and clasps his Froggie Stick tighter. “Ah, yeah, pretty sure I’m fine. And Belome—”

You jab a thumb back. “Looks like he’s almost beat.”

The prince returns your wavering smile with his own tired one. “About time.”

And the young Nimbian jumps back into the fray, crackling lightning magic dancing around his hands. With his powerful magic on your side, coupled with the fact he still has more FP than you or Geno, this fight’s sure to be in the bag.

Sure, there’s the minor hiccup of Geno then falling for the whole cloning schtick, but Belome spits him out immediately, complaining about how “dry and tasteless” the doll is. Fair enough, you suppose.

Even with a Geno clone running about, shooting anything that isn’t Belome, the head honcho himself still appears to be on his last legs.

...honestly, you should’ve know things will never go smoothly the second you boast.

It happens relatively quickly: Bowser, clearly fed up with being a chew toy, shuffles in place before sprinting at Belome and slamming into him as he did with Yaridovich. “That’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut!” the Koopa bellows all the while Belome is knocked far away...and directly at you. Cool.

Once Belome regains his footing, he shakes himself a bit and growls under his breath. And then his blue irises hone in on your comparatively tiny frame, one by one. It’s pretty damn unnerving, not gonna lie.

“Hmm…? What’s this?” Oh man, is that even more drool dripping out of his mouth? “You don’t look like much, but I’m still famished. Anything will do and this point.”

Even though a blazing circlet of orange magic whirls into the side of his head, Belome doesn’t take his four eyes off of you. Your knee quivers but you force yourself to sprint away, your spell subsiding in your fear.

Your attempt to flee doesn’t work, and a slimy tongue wraps around you before whipping you back into Belome’s mouth.

You swallow a gag. God, it reeks to high hell and back, not that you expected anything else. But then there’s the fact your clothes are growing wetter by the second, courtesy of all the saliva. That retch you managed to quell decides it’s time to come out and you heave a bit.

Clamping a hand over your mouth and nose, you call your magic. It’ll be weak but it’ll have to do. You cast a point-blank Water Blast and—

—the next thing you realize is that you’re sliding across the golden bricks of Belome Temple. “_Eurgh_, freedom,” you blurble, soaked with spit as you are and just feeling awful in general. You could do with never experiencing that again. Judging from the constant remarks of “bitter, bitter, _bitter_! Disgusting!” coming from Belome, you assume he feels the same.

Shyster runs over to you. “Are you okay?”

“Pretty sure I was _this_ close to throwing up, but I’m good.” You gag again.

His mask shifts into a grimace at the same time the tell-tale _ptooee_ rings out from Belome. While a bit curious about what your clone will be like, you just hope it’s not as weird as Geno’s running around and saying “I must gather the Star Pieces” this and “I’ll eliminate those who get in the way of my mission” that.

Least to say, it’s extremely unnerving watching a copy of yourself worm its way into existence from a pool of spit.

The first thing your doppelganger does is blink, clearly stupefied as it takes in its surroundings. Once its eyes land on the battle occurring wayside between Geno, Mario, Bowser, and Geno’s clone, it goes from stunned to ogling. Oooh boy, is it gonna reveal how much of a raging fan you are? Dear lord you hope not.

The magic at your fingertips dissipates briefly when Belome slams into Bowser, which in turn causes your doppelganger to watch. Still it does nothing combative, even as the moments trickle by.

“What gives…?” Shyster asks, to which you shrug mutely. “Is...is it defective or something?”

But as soon as it swivels its attention to the Shy Guy, it’s demeanor immediately changes yet again. If it was ogling the famous characters from the _Mario_-verse duking it out in one of your favorite video games of all time _before_, then it was doing a hell of a lot more at Shyster _now_. Ohhh no, please no, don’t make this weird—

A hesitant smile slides into place on your doppelganger’s face. Aside from the fact it looks like you haven’t slept in years, seeing yourself smile is...disturbing, to say the least. It doesn’t even reach your eyes, despite how they crinkle ever so slightly.

Then it seems to notice you standing besides Shyster.

Slowly but surely, its eyes fall away from him in favor of dragging over your tattered form. Something uncomfortable wedges itself inside your throat, nearly choking you when you recognize the emotions flitting across your copy’s face. None of them are pretty. And if the trend of Belome’s clones revealing the most basal, truest self of the person, sans all the filters…

You swallow thickly, suddenly feeling far too cramped in the room.

Hurriedly, you tell Shyster, “Muh-maybe you should go and, and help the others—” _Please don’t let him see this_.

“_You_.”

It’s surprising how much vitriol can come across with the deliverance of a single word. Perhaps even more unsettling is watching your doppelganger’s face contort into one of pure, undiluted malice and—have you always looked that horrifying when angry? Have you actually ever been _truly_ angry?

You feel the rush of foreign - foreign? - magic gather in its hands, the telltale blue glow indicating a Diamond Saw. Sure enough, the spell materializes just under its grasp. But its version of the spell more closely resembles Johnny’s far more intricate snowflake shapes instead of your crude buzzsaw ones. That...can’t be good.

You ignore Shyster’s whispered warning to instead focus on the scalding words falling from your copy’s lips.

“You fucking _coward_. You—you’re still running around, and for _what_? You think if you work hard enough you’ll get your happy ending?”

It laughs, cruel and cold. “It doesn’t work like that, you _idiot_.”

Through the haze you register the faint noise of rattling chains. It’s the only indication you’re given before Shyster hurls his mace at your copy. Seemingly unlike you, however, is the fact that it didn’t maintain your crippled knee, given how deftly it dodges the weapon.

Even after a few more tries, Shyster can’t seem to hit it and you’re too lost in your thoughts to even attempt calling your magic. Sure, it doesn’t retaliate, but that doesn’t stop the Shy Guy from pausing enough to chastise you. “Snap outta it! They’re—it’s not real—”

That garners another change. With a snarl, your doppelganger deflects another swing of Shyster’s mace with its Diamond Saw. But its glare never leave your face. You never would have guessed your eyes looked deader than you already believed them to be.

“I’m real enough,” it grits out, “and _you know it_. And you also know there’s _nothing_ you can change, so why not make it easier and just _give up_? Not like there’s anything else you’re good for.”

But...but you’re stronger now, so why…? Surely you’ve gotten better since—

“Th-that’s not true,” you stammer weakly, feeling all the more like an idiot for even entertaining the thought of arguing with yourself. “I...I have a reason for sticking around now.”

Your copy laughs, a broken sound. “_God_, you’re so _stupid_. You want me to spell it out? _Fine_; in the grand scheme of things, you don’t matter and neither does anyone else! So who gives a damn whether or not you just—”

But their words cut out sharply, a strange choking sound tumbling out instead.

Shyster makes an odd sound and when your eyes finally focus enough, you realize why. Steadily, tears gather and drip down your doppelganger’s face. In spite of the gnarled grimace and anger sharpening the curves of your face, the tears speak only the truth of the matter.

“What…” Shyster murmurs before halting himself, his stance relaxing substantially.

You barely register how quickly its Diamond Saws dissipate only for a wellspring of magic to swell under your feet. The next moment all you recognize is the strange weightlessness that accompanies flying through the air. _Storm, huh_…?

You crash into the ground, a ragged breath torn from your lungs. Your ribs twinge painfully in the same spot where Yaridovich stabbed you, and you choke on the next breath.

You claw at the golden bricks in an attempt to stand, but a weight suddenly flings itself on top of you and—your eyes snap open only to see your mirror image above you. Something sharp and thin wraps around your throat, digging deeper and deeper and you can’t manage a single gasp. Through the haze clouding your mind and stalling any attempts to disengage, you feel a few drops hit your cheeks before sliding down, almost as if they were your own.

Your doppelganger leans down, shoulders hunched in its efforts to wrench all the air from your lungs.

“No one cares about you,” it seethes, wrathful and mourning all at once. “No one’s _ever_ cared about you, so why would that change _now_?”

Something small and frail slips from your lips. Not quite a breath, but close enough to coax the fingers around your neck to tighten even further.

Your copy lurches, a sob carefully encased within its ribcage. “You promised. _You promised_, b-but you didn’t! And now it doesn’t matter anymore! Nothing’s gonna change, so _why_—”

_Crack_!

Your clone is flung away from you, careening off to the side and skidding across the floor. Before you can take in its extensive wound, Shyster shoves himself into view and tugs you upright. Above his demands to know if you’re alright and “why didn’t you fight back?” you watch your copy stagger upright. The Shy Guy hurriedly helps you back up to your feet as well.

Mind still fuzzy from being choked out, the only thing you really register is the horrid wound adorning its head. It looks like a sizable chunk of flesh was cleaved clean off by Shyster’s mace, and if it wasn’t a magic construct made up of Belome’s slobber, you don’t doubt the injury would’ve been bleeding heavily.

The three of you stare at one another, waiting.

“I don’t get. _I don’t get it_.” You watch your doppelganger glance away, toward where everyone else is still embroiled in a fight against Belome, his Geno clone, and now a Mallow clone. You can feel its magic before it coalesces into a new pair of Diamond Saws.

“You can’t stop what’s inevitable.” Chest heaving, you stare into your own eyes. “So _why_? Why are you doing this? It’s going to hurt more so _why_? Why bother with anyone at all?”

You hear the words come out but don’t actually remember forming them. “You know why.”

Regardless of the tears cascading down its cheeks, its glare scares you. “_I hate you_.”

“I know.”

And it flings its Diamond Saws directly at you.

A weight collides into your bad knee, and the resulting wave of pain forces you to nearly collapse onto the floor. But Shyster is there to quickly help you back up, readying his mace once you’re capable of standing without his help. He doesn’t wait for you, going on the attack and hurling his mace at your doppelganger. And you—

Something cold and hard solidifies in your chest. It’s fine; _it’s fine_.

Struggling to conjure any of your magic, you watch as your copy mimics the action. Dodging yet another attack, they pause enough to clasp their hands together before releasing them. Faintly, you register the temperature around you growing warmer, but even the resulting explosions indicative of Water Blast are comparatively weak compared to Yaridovich’s. You doubt it has anything to do with your constitution, though.

Once you’ve gathered enough, your own Diamond Saws manifest under your open hands. They whirl without pause.

“...Shyster, stop.”

He doesn’t listen at first, but after a few more dodges with zero direct retaliation, he abides. Curiously and perhaps a bit angrily, he turns to you as if to berate you for something as stupid as asking him to stop attacking the enemy. He doesn’t get the chance.

Sacrificing the wellbeing of your knee, you sprint forward and—you’ve nearly forgotten how nice it feels to run.

There’s no magic gathering around your doppelganger. Defenseless. Its widening eyes attest to the fact further.

Time seems to slow. You watch its arms raise as if to protect itself but you’re too close, and you—you don’t hesitate. As soon as you’re close enough, you fling your arms forward to ensure your spells hits its mark: your doppelganger’s throat.

There’s no blood, no gore. But as you watch its decapitated head fly off, the look of utter terror glued to its features will haunt you for the rest of your time here; of this you are certain.

It’s a relief when its body relapses back into a puddle of Belome’s slobber.

“...you okay?”

You glance down at Shyster only to see him similarly looking down at the translucent fluid. Unable to plaster on a fake smile or muster your ragged voice, you settle instead for a nod. He matches your face with his own stoic one.

“Good. Now,” he turns, quickly surveying the others before turning back to you. “Sorry for letting you get hurt, earlier. And for hittin’ your bad knee; figured it would’ve been better that way instead of getting hit with the Diamond Saws.”

“‘S fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Still.” He gathers up the chains of his mace. “I can tell you barely have enough magic to cast one more spell, so why don’t you just sit out the rest of this fight? It already looks like it’ll be done sooner than later.”

You don’t reply but limp over to the nearest wall and collapse, absolutely spent. Once he makes sure you’re fine, Shyster heads off to join the fray which basically entails beating on Belome, since all the other clones have dissipated. True to his guess, the battle is won after a couple more minutes. Good; you just want to lie down and sleep forever.

“_Hah_...looks like I’ll have to find tasty treats elsewhere,” Belome pants. “So long, ladies and gentlemen!”

He stomps once, twice, summoning a trap door beneath him which he shortly thereafter falls into, out of sight. The golden bricks move to cover his escape route and the encounter is finally, finally over.

After Toadstool heals the group, you finally step through the golden gate on the far side of the room. A single normal, thankfully green pipe waits patiently and you could cry with relief; Monstro Town should be on the other side.

_About damn time_ is your sole thought as you crawl into the pipe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Me, writing this monstrosity and knowing _damn well_ what I'm doing:** _Hue hue hue_
> 
> Anyways, have some more reader lore! And character interactions, because I love me some banter (and clowns, apparently, lol).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	14. Shelf to Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the reader, stage fright turns into a stage fight.

Despite the nightmarish battle between you and your inner demons, all things considered, you slept like the dead once you got hooked up with Monstro Town’s inn. Even with those three ghosts probably waiting for the opportunity to play their fetch quest “game,” you were thankful you didn’t dream.

Feeling surprisingly refreshed, you sit up from Shyster’s borrowed bed roll and stretch. You glance over at the only bed in the cramped room and sure enough, it’s empty. Figures; he’s a morning person.

A few more minutes of fixing yourself up and you’re outside, enjoying the balmy air of Monstro Town.

While the place can’t be mistaken from its in-game counterpart, the town is - of course - leagues larger, built in tbe valley between two harrowing cliffs. Steady streams trickle through the grassy paths and down the stoney walls, and it’s strangely reminiscent of those hidden villages you’ve read about so many times in the past. Or at least how you’ve imagined them, but whatever; tropes apply here too.

The residences dug into the cliff’s faces remind you of apartments, and it warms your heart to know monsters have a safe haven here. And from the looks of it, lots of them live here. You wonder if Bowser’s already seen the Goomba running the shop and their children...aww, you kinda want to see that.

Monstro Town is about half a mile long, so when you reach the end and spot the telltale staircase leading to a very familiar residence you pause.

“Took you long enough to get up.”

Pretending like you didn’t just jump and make a very weird sound, you whirl around to greet Shyster. He offers you one of the wrapped parcels he’s carrying. “Breakfast,” he surmises while you salivate over the ham and cheese croissant. “Decided to have a look around and picked this up on the way; hot food is a luxury when you’re traveling—really?”

You ignore his deadpan stare and wheeze through your choking. “_Hrrk_—th-thanks. ‘S really good.”

“It hasn’t even been a minute,” he chastises briefly. “Anyways, thought I’d give you a quick update since you were the last to wake up.”

Turns out Mallow’s a bit bummed due to what his copy said about not being able to find his real parents, so Mario and him left to see where to move on from Monstro Town. Surprisingly, Geno didn’t join, opting to gather whatever intel he could from the locals. Similarly, Bowser’s been looking for the key to the hidden treasure room of Belome Temple.

“—and the princess joined Mr. Spirit,” Shyster concludes. “Or at least I’m pretty sure she did; she wanders wherever her attention is drawn, seems like. You’d probably get along.”

Unsure if that last comment was a jab at your flighty nature, you ignore it. “And everyone’s still off doin’ their own thing?”

“Pretty much. Is there something important here or something?”

“Hold on.” It takes you the better part of a minute to shove the rest of your croissant into your mouth, much to the obvious disgust of Shyster. Once you’re done getting crumbs all over your bandana and shirt, you go on to explain the central attractions to be found in good ol’ Monstro Town. Carefully, of course; not like you can get away with stating there’s a few boss fights here.

“...and long story short is that we need the Paratroopas help to scale the cliff at the edge of Monstro Town. Then it’s through Bean Valley aaand that’s one step closer to the next Star Piece,” you summarize.

Shyster looks like he wants to give you a deadpan glare but settles for a shrug. “I know you’re a seer and all that, but you _do_ realize this is called Land’s End for a reason, right? There’s practically nothing beyond Bean Valley—”

“Oooh trust me,” you interrupt, “there’s _plenty_ after Bean Valley. For starters, we’re going to bust our butts through Barrel Volcano eventually, so there’s that to look forward to.”

Shyster eyes narrow. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“Man, I wish I was. I just hope I don’t get heat sick like I almost did in the desert.”

He sighs, long and drawn. “I’m getting ahead of myself. So you already know we’re going to Bean Valley after this, but where are the Paratroopa’s who’re supposed to help us? I’ve already done my fair share of snooping and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of even one Koopa.” He sniffs. “Besides the one traveling with us, of course.”

You lift a finger before your mind conveniently blanks out. Thumbing your chin and looking away from the Shy Guy, you try to remember how you furthered the plot but you can’t seem to for the life of you. Man, recalling this sort of stuff would’ve been a _lot_ easier had you actually played the game your damn self instead of always watching on the sidelines...But eh, not like you could’ve known you would’ve become a self-insert. Can’t account for everything.

“...you don’t remember, do you?” It’s more of a statement than a question, judging by Shyster’s tone.

“Uhhh...hmmm...mmmaybe. Probably.”

Wasn’t there like some cutscene that played here? How would you even go about scripting that if you couldn’t remember the stupid scene in the first place? Wow, talk about an unlucky time for you to forget plot points.

Shyster sighs again. “Well, guess there’s only one option left: going about it the old fashioned way. Least the locals shouldn’t have much of a problem spilling anything to the likes of me; no offense.”

So humans aren’t generally trusted around here…? Fair enough. “None taken.”

“Oh, there you are.”

You turn only to see none other than Geno, who appears miffed for one reason or another. Crossing his arms and offering you and Shyster a tired stare, he admits, “Unfortunately, I didn’t find out anything useful about the whereabouts of the next Star Piece. The only thing I could parce together is that Smithy’s influence never reached this far in-land, but a massive ship of his _has_ been seen overhead every now and then.”

You inhale sharply. “The Blade, huh.”

Geno raises a brow. “...I take it that’s one of Smithy’s ships? But haven’t we already defeated all three of his generals?”

“Well, kinda. There’s also a platoon of, of…” _Don’t say bosses, dang it_! “Uh, high-ranking soldiers, I guess…? Don’t worry; we get to beat the crap outta them too, if that’s what you’re wondering. But that’s also waaay down the line, so.”

You can’t help grinning when Shyster fails to muffle a snort, especially when Geno gives you the most deadpan expression you’ve ever seen cross his features. Makes getting on the doll’s nerves worth it.

Wrinkling his wooden nose a bit, Geno goes on. “And I don’t suppose you know everything about what steps to take next—”

“We’re outta luck in that department, Mr. Spirit,” Shyster states, much to your embarrassment. “Sleeps-a-lot here forgot how to get to Bean Valley, aside from something to do with Paratroopas.”

Surprisingly, Geno doesn’t seem all that disappointed. “Well, not like you could possibly know everything, given all the variables. And while I wanted to see what I could find out for myself, Mario and I _did_ discover something odd during our trek through the town earlier; one of his items started reacting strangely to one of the doors here.”

Oh. Oh _no_.

He trails off, giving you a once-over. You can only hope your dread isn’t showing so blatantly on your face. “...now that I mention it, I distinctly remember you telling me that the Shiny Stone would be invaluable in Monstro Town.” His subdued glare rivals the equally deadpan tone of his voice when he reiterates, “And here we are, in Monstro Town.”

...if time-travel’s real, you are _so_ going to kick your past self’s ass.

Clasping your hands together and slowly arcing them, you decide honesty’s your best bet at getting outta this hot mess. “Sooo, uh, that was a lie. There’s absolutely nothing useful to be found behind that door. Nope, no siree. Uh-uh.”

Geno takes a deep breath. “So I was right to not trust your judgement.”

“To be fair, you were kinda bullying me back then.”

“Hold up, hold up.” You and Geno look down to Shyster, who wipes the crumbs of his own croissant off his hands. Tilting his mask up at you, he asks, “While I’m inclined to believe you wanted to get back at dollface here, I’m also _painfully_ aware of the fact you’re honest to the point of oversharing. So give it to me straight: is there really _nothing_ of value to be gained from whatever you’re trying to prevent?”

Your face contorts into a grimace before you can school it into something _not_ giving away how useful the Quartz Charm would be. The other two are, understandably, quick to catch on.

Geno eyes you. “So there _is_ something we can benefit from. Mind telling us what it is?”

Pursing your lips and wanting the ground to swallow you up, you tangle your fingers together. “...’S called the Quartz Charm or something. It, uh, halves all damage taken while also boosting your damage...or something. Not sure of the specifics or anything, b-but it’s something similar at least.”

In spite of how wide Geno’s eyes get, the drawn sigh from Shyster roots you directly back into reality.

Glancing up at the spirit, Shyster asks, “So what’s the catch to gettin’ this thing?”

“...would you believe me if I told you that, behind that door, there’s a giant dimension-hopping demon who wants to have one last fight before he goes home? Oh, and that he’s freakishly strong to boot?”

Geno grabs his chin. “But if we can best him, then it would make my mission that much easier…”

“Uh, that’s a pretty big ‘if’ my dude.”

“So how hard would this guy be to beat, exactly?” Shyster asks.

“Uh...aside from me almost getting murdered, he would probably make Yaridovich look like a cakewalk in comparison...at least that's by _my_ standards, and to be fair, I _was_ pretty indisposed for most of that fight. B-but the bright side is that I don’t think Culex is nearly as murderous as Yaridovich o-or anything! More like Johnny because of honor, I think…”

Shyster and Geno exchange a confused glance before the former comments, “To their credit, ‘Culex’ doesn’t exactly scream ‘common’ name.”

Geno hums and haws a bit. “Regardless, the risk seems to be worth it in the long run. We still can’t gauge how powerful Smithy is as opposed to his lieutenants, especially considering he made them in the first place. Any equipment which could counteract that unknown would be useful to have…”

Ah, typical strategizing. But you still don’t want to even entertain going up against Culex - didn’t most others beat the guy _after_ retrieving the Lazy Shell stuff? - so you spit out, “If you really wanna beat someone up, why not check out Jinx’s dojo; should be around here somewhere, probs on the second floor if I had to guess.”

Shyster grumbles a bit. “And here I was thinkin’ we could relax a bit. All right then, what does Jinx give us if we thrash him?”

“...some kind of belt that increases attacking power, defense, aaand, uh, sp-speed…? Maybe; not too sure about that last one.”

“Lemme guess: he’s really hard to beat, too.”

“Ayup. Gotta win three times to boot.”

“...I dunno about that Culex guy, but if I knew enough about this dojo I bet I could swipe the belt—”

While Geno berates Shyster, you see the princess stroll toward your group, Mallow in tow. Both seem a little down but Toadstool plasters on a smile as soon as she notices you looking.

“Good morning! Seems like we’re stuck here for a bit,” the princess says, shooting a concerned look down at the prince. Eying you, she asks, “Unless there’s something you know that could help us up to Bean Valley? I asked the kindly Toad at the inn and she told me the Paratroopas wouldn’t return from their deliveries until tomorrow afternoon…”

You sigh at the same time Geno says, “There’s our answer.”

Red eyes glinting almost mischievously, the spirit continues while glancing at you. “Might as well do something worthwhile with our time, and since there’s something to be gained from challenging either Culex or Jinx…”

The smirk the doll then levels at you makes you wish you knew how to throw a decent punch. You pinch your eyes shut and try to ignore how he catches both Toadstool and Mallow up to snuff, mainly trying to convince them to instigate a dimension-traveling demon or a tiny dude who could rip you limb from limb if he so desired. Great.

Not even ten minutes later you find yourself standing outside the fabled door, locking away what could be your imminent demise.

“Mario,” Geno tips his head toward the plumber, “if you would?”

Silent as ever, the portly man nods once and extends the Shiny Stone. Though his expression betrays some confusion about how to unlock the mysterious door with a fancy rock, his action seems to work. A quick flash of light later, the sound of a door unlatching rings out in the morning sun. The Shiny Stone has vanished from Mario’s glove.

No one immediately moves, to which Bowser complains, “What’s with the hold-up? C’mon, are we gonna beat the tar outta this guy or not?”

Geno shrugs once before placing his hand around the door’s handle. With a creak, the periwinkle wood gives way and you follow everyone else as they step inside.

True to what it was in-game, Culex’s domain is as trippy as ever. There’s no distinct floor or walls, just some never-ending darkness peppered generously with swirling purple clouds. Turquoise stars float here and there like the battle arena for the fight, but they seem to be hidden behind the weird mist.

As soon as everyone passes the threshold, the door slams behind you before vanishing completely. Uh, that—that wasn’t supposed to happen, right…?

Mallow jumps, hiding behind the princess’s frilly skirts. She looks at where the door was a second ago and summarizes, “Oh, well...that doesn’t seem good.”

Shyster scoffs. “You think?”

“Hey, Geno…?” The spirit looks over at you. “I just want you to know that, in this particular moment in time, I hate you. Maybe not as much as myself for ever suggesting this in the first place, but it’s pretty close, not gonna lie.”

Red eyes roll themselves. “Duly noted. Now—”

“Who dares trespass in my domain?”

You whirl around only to see the most fucking _terrifying_ thing you’ve ever laid eyes upon. Like, for a dude named after mosquitoes, Culex is anything but unassuming. For starters, he’s as massive as he in when in battle; that is to say, much, _much_ bigger than everyone probably put together. Beyond that and the fact he looks like he came straight outta hell, he’s absolutely ripped. You don’t know whether or not it’s a good thing he predominantly uses spells instead of his bulky muscles for dealing damage.

Oh, and his voice? Equally as terrifying; deep, resonant, and echoes to boot? _Definitely_ demonic, for sure.

You glance away to gauge everyone else’s reactions, and it sure says something when Bowser _and_ Mario look pretty off-put by Culex. Dude’s scary and you regret ever opening your dumb, fat mouth.

Before anyone can answer Culex, his booming voice pierces through the tension once more. “Ah, occupants from this world...and I can see you are strong ones at that.”

He peers down with his red eyes, mismatched horns framing his head like a demented halo. He crosses his arms aaand immediately goes into his in-game script. “I am Culex, Dark Knight of Vanda. I have crossed to this dimension as an aid to the Dark Mage’s conquest, but it seems there is nothing of importance to be found here. Beyond that, it seems this world is...incompatible with me and my kind. As such it would be best I return to my own world...yet—”

Oh no, here it comes.

“—would it not be a waste if I do not achieve at least a morsel of my quest? Will you hear my plea?”

Aside from the fact both you and Mallow are practically quaking in your shoes, everyone else seems to exchange quick glances. Mario and Geno nod a few times amongst themselves while Bowser just looks kinda lost; probably all that fancy speech. And if Shyster’s fidgeting besides you is anything to go by, even he can’t keep cool when faced with Culex.

After agreeing to hear him out, Culex requests, “I wish to challenge your strongest knight; allow me the chance to rest this energy which has had no outlet.”

“Uh,” Bowser interrupts. “Buddy, there’s...there’s more than one of us here. Do you wanna fight one specific person, or…?”

Culex doesn’t seem to care about how crass the king of Koopas is, humoring him anyway. “It matters not; all I ask is a chance to truly unleash my abilities and be met with equal ferocity.” His eyes glimmer a bit at the prospect of a rough and tumble kinda fight, especially as he eyes every one of you—

Wait, why’s he stopping to stare at you specifically?

Culex says nothing for a brief moment, and your anxiety spikes. Then he has the gall to out you in front of everyone else: “Ah, another traveler. It seems you’ve found a home in this land, unlike I. Do you not wish to return to your own dimension once your duty has been completed?”

Ah, there they are, the stress sweats. Keenly aware of the multiple sets of eyes drilling into you from the others, you fiddle with the hem of your shirt and refuse to look away from the swirling vortex beneath your feet. Then again, not replying to Culex would just be asking for it, so…

Swallowing and hoping that croissant stays in your stomach, you stutter, “Uhhh, I-I don’t...um, I…” You throw a desperate glance at Geno who responds by pressing a wooden palm into his face. This action does not go unnoticed by literally everyone else.

Your desperate look then targets none other than Culex. Unable to come up with anything, you settle for a shrug. A second series of facepalms ring out below you; Shyster, if you had to guess. Mallow wouldn’t do that. Probably.

“Wait a minute,” Bowser interrupts again, “you—you’re sayin’ you’re like Mr. Dark Knight over here? Hopping dimensions and stuff?”

Toadstool is the next to lean closer, a curious glint in her eyes. “You mean to say you’re from another world? But...wait a moment…” She plants a gloved finger on her chin. “I thought you were a seer, and if you know things here but you’re from a different world…”

Oh no. This is the last thing you need to hear right now.

“Y’know, the princess is right,” Mallow peeps from behind her. Giving you an odd look, he says, “You seem to know everythin’ _we_ need to know, but _you_ didn’t know you had magic. I thought all your magic was the reason you were a seer in the first place…but if you’re not from our world, then—”

“D-do you still wanna fight, ooor what?” you blurt out, louder than you intended. Subtle, real subtle.

Despite all the looks you’re garnering from everyone else, Culex doesn’t seem to mind or even understand the situation on your end of the spectrum. Instead, the boss mercifully boasts, “You truly wish to do battle with me? Then prepare yourself, lest you have no chance at victory.”

Mario is the first to stop harassing you with his eyeballs, opting to nod once at Culex before making his customary fisticuffs animation. Geno is the next, followed by mostly everyone else. Honestly, what bugs you the most is how oddly quiet Shyster was during the whole exchange. Knowing him, he’s probably putting it all together now…

Once everyone falls into formation - you, Mallow and Toadstool in the rear with the others in front - Geno announces that you are, indeed, going to throw down with Culex. He nods once, jagged maw splitting into a wicked grin.

“So be it. _En guarde_!”

With that, he puts enough distance between your party and him before he stretches his arms wide. The very familiar sound of his Shredder spell rings out, but instead of nullifying all stat changes, the dreaded Crystals are summoned to his side in a flurry of lights. Soon enough, all four are hovering before him and he crosses his arms almost triumphantly.

“I am matter,” he begins, voice booming, “I am antimatter; I can see your past, and I can see your future. I consume time...and now, I shall consume you!”

You’ve had enough of being consumed to last a lifetime, thanks.

*** * * * * * ***

A few things to note: Culex is, understandably, one of the most difficult bosses in the entire game, often on par if not worse than Smithy himself. It’s also understandable that you don’t want his attention on you.

Maybe opening your big, fat mouth again to immediately shout, “Take out the Wind—green Crystal; it heals him!” wasn’t exactly a well-thought out plan.

You yelp as you’re flung several feet from where you were just standing, having just survived a point-blank Flame Stone spell, courtesy of the Fire Crystal. Least to say, having to constantly dodge a barrage of spells because you pointed out the whole ‘shoot the mage first’ strategy isn’t fun. Like, at all. But you gotta do what you gotta do, right?

With you heart hammering away behind your ribs, you’re forced to remain on the defensive because Culex and his stupid gems seem hellbent on making you suffer. And sure, maybe you’ve _also_ called out the most dangerous spells you can remember for each of the crystals, but that shouldn’t mean you deserve to be mauled to death by ice, lightning, and fire spells, right?

“_Ahhck_—!”

Suffice to say, taking a direct hit from an oversized gray star - Dark Star, that hard-hitting, multi-target spell, if you recall - is also not very fun. Once the damned visage has dispersed into a plume of harmless smoke, you’re left lying on the ground with what feels like a bruised ribcage and spine. Ugh.

“I thought you said this guy wasn’t as bad as Yaridovich!” Shyster hisses as he approaches, offering to help you up before the next spell inevitably hits.

Back up on your feet but struggling to remain upright, you wheeze; _ouch_. That dumb rib where you got stabbed doesn’t feel like it completely healed. “I-I don’t know everything, ob-obviously.”

It doesn’t take long for the princess to notice your pretty banged up condition, because after getting some cover from one of Mallow’s own powerful lightning spells - Shocker, from the looks of it - she runs over. The warmth of her healing magic eases the aches in your torso, and both you and Shyster synch your “thank you’s,” much to her obvious delight.

As soon as she darts away, likely to heal Bowser who just got rolled over with a massive boulder from the Earth Crystal, you hear the clinking of Shyster’s mace. He grunts and it’s the only warning you get when he thrusts his mace in front of you, deflecting the Diamond Saws from the definitely-closer Water Crystal.

You’re quick to retaliate with your own version of the spell, knocking the floating blue gem backwards into Mario’s attack range. After taking the moment to yell that it’s weak to fire, the plumber doesn’t hesitate to roast it with his fireballs.

It doesn’t take long for the Fire Crystal to join in, firing off - _snnrk_ \- another of its spells—oh, wait a sec, isn’t that it’s most powerful spell, Corona?

After summoning a miniature sun which then proceeds to give off an immense flash coupled with a searing heat which leaves you on the floor, writhing in pain _again_, yeah. That’s definitely gotta be its strongest spell.

Peeking over shows Shyster faring a bit better than you, having already gotten back to his feet. You openly groan a bit, complaining, “How’re you okay…? I—” Your voice breaks off into a hiss; looking down at your exposed skin shows it reddened and in some places, flaking off. _Ugh, gross_. And isn’t your Amulet supposed to half all elemental damage? What the _heck_.

Swinging his mace and swatting the offending red gem away, Shyster replies, “You _do_ know Shy Guys originally come from the desert, right? Y’know, the arid land of Subcon and all that? Luckily for me, fire magic isn’t as effective. But for you...”

You can practically feel his eyes raking over your burns. He makes a disgusted sound. “And _that’s_ why we cover ourselves up.”

“I thought you covered up ‘cause you’re _Shy_ Guys. Aha; good one, me.”

“Is now really the time?” Geno chastises as he runs over, wooden face remarkably tense. His hands glow red for the briefest moments before he places one on both you and Shyster. A sudden feeling of invigoration washes over you, enough for you to climb to your feet without aid.

“Thanks.” You eye the spirit. “Geno Boost…?”

He nods, glancing over the battlefield again; Toadstool is clearly running around, healing the others as fast as she can. “Already gave it out to the others; it’ll last for a good while, so make it count.”

Shyster nods, readying his mace when you suggest, “Culex knows Shredder, which’ll get rid of any boosts you give; dunno when or if he’ll use it, but...be aware, I guess.”

Geno doesn’t seem too fazed; more tired-looking than anything. “...of course, or else things would be too easy.” He sighs before stating, “Guess I’ll stick to my offensive spells for now. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Uhhh...your magic is element-less, like mine, so I guess go for it? None of the crystals will resist your magic, at least.”

The doll nods once more. “Noted.” And then he darts off again, hand unhinging into his trademark cannon.

“Alright,” Shyster starts, readying his mace again, “time to get back to business. Can’t afford to let Mr. Spirit’s spell go to waste. I’ll give you some cover, so spam those spells and hopefully we can widdle those overgrown rocks down.”

You grin, already calling your unruly magic for a Water Blast. “Gotcha.”

And that’s pretty much how most of the fight continues, with you dodging more spells and flinging off your own in retaliation. Slowly but surely, the Crystals start to fall one by one. It’s Bowser who finishes off the last one remaining, bulldozing directly into the Earth Crystal. It flies into the diamond-adorned bottom half of Culex with an echoing _twang_ before falling to the floor, dull and out of commision like it’s brethren.

“Impressive,” Culex comments, eyeing the four hunks of rock lying around the battlefield. “Now, behold my true power!”

“Hm. Well, that doesn’t sound good.” Least to say, the scathing look on both Shyster and Geno’s faces nearly makes up for the Meteor Blast that shortly thereafter rams into all of you.

Once everyone staggers upright, you resume the standard faire of you hurling spells every now and then, offering opening for the most physically inclined brawlers. Coupled with you, Mallow, and even Geno, the openings are plentiful and you can tell Culex is being worn down. Then again, it’s technically seven against one; really, it was those dumb crystals that caused so much trouble.

It’s when you’re basically out of magic when the battle takes a turn for the worst; at least for you.

Still hanging around Mallow ‘cause mages, you see the spell before it rains down. And considering Dark Star hits a _lot_ more physically than suggested in-game, you’re pretty sure Mallow won’t remain conscious if he gets hit. When also taking into account the prince seems to have a lot more FP in him, well, the decision was pretty easy.

You immediately pluck the boy from the ground only to throw him away as hard as you possibly could. Despite his abrupt screech and crash landing some ways away - he’s a cloud so of _course_ he weighs next to nothing - you can see the surprise when he finally looks up.

Following his eyes, you see another stupid Dark Star and it’s the last thing you’re able to recognize before it rushes down onto your skull.

…

“—up! Get up already!”

Blearily, it feels like static is crawling up your neck, even as you feel it swing this way and that. Someone’s holding your head up and the shaking isn’t doing you any favors; instead, it compounds the throbbing aches between your temples. So much so they travel down your spine and form into a knot where your—oh no, you’d recognize this feeling anywhere.

“_Urrk_...croissant…”

And you promptly turn away, puking into the floor with an ugly retch. It takes a bit, but as soon as you’re left dry heaving you finally gather the courage to actually take a peek at your surroundings.

Thankfully, given the alien geometries of Culex’s domain, your partially digested breakfast doesn’t coagulate on the floor, instead having fallen in the abyss. This doesn’t mean that the others aren’t giving you various looks of either pity or disgust. Another throb between your temples results in a minor bout of gagging, but there’s nothing left in your stomach.

Someone _tsks_ above you. Their shadow looms over you before gently leveraging you higher into a seated position. Opening your eyes shows Geno hovering over you besides an irked Shyster.

The doll eyes the Shy Guy. “Sorry about the rude awakening, but it seems like it worked. Anyways, we thought we should tell you—”

“Give ‘em a moment,” Shyster shoots back, arms crossed. “Can’t you see they’re concussed? Looks pretty bad, too.”

Geno’s features appear stricken for a second. “Really? But the princess healed them—”

“Them immediately hurling after waking up seems to be a surefire sign they’re not completely better. Then again, you’re made of wood so it’s not like I expect you to know any better.”

Hating the feeling of how dirty your mouth feels and tastes, you grumble, “Whu-what happen’d…?”

“Huh, lookit that; they’re slurring. Clearly fine and dandy,” Shyster deadpans, much to Geno’s annoyance. Looking down at you, the Shy Guy goes on to explain, “You got knocked out by one of Culex’s Dark Stars, but we managed to finish the fight. Spent the last few minutes trying to get you up to snuff, including consciousness.”

“Oh…” You blink slowly. “Wait—you guys beat Culex?”

Geno hums. “Take a look for yourself.”

You do. It takes another minute of you gathering your bearings enough to actually recognize everything with clarity, but they’re right. Everyone else is hovering about your still-kinda prone form, but you’re staring up at the floating visages of both Culex and his personal entourage of Crystals.

Managing to sit up straight with Geno’s assistance, you eye the boss and he seems to return the action.

“It seems,” Culex’s booming voice begins, “that I was wrong to underestimate your group. And I thank you for that; it was a great fight, but maybe more so given my misgivings. It is odd, but your party reminds me of the one from where I originate, and their own battle they wrought against me. Bested not once, but twice...alas, you all are capable knights and therefore have earned my respect.”

It’s then when the demon unfurls his arms. There’s an abrupt flare of magenta magic and once it vanishes, the four Crystals are nowhere to be found. In their place is a single, seemingly insignificant necklace from which four distinctly colored gems hang from.

Culex guides the accessory toward Mario, who accepts it with a curious stare and tiny bow.

“Perhaps, in another time, another place,” the boss starts, “we may have been mortal enemies. Now, let us part as comrades in arms! Think of this as a keepsake of our fight; I am sure it will aid you in all your endeavours to come.”

In classic Mario fashion, the plumber shoots a grin up at the demon as he pockets the Quartz Charm. He then tips his cap to further accentuate how cool he is, being the silent protagonist he is.

You watch in a trance as Culex’s body begins to waver. Even so, his voice is still commanding when he bids his farewell. “Now I shall take my leave. Truly, you have my thanks for humoring me before I return home.”

Then his eyes hone in on you one last time.

“And fellow traveler…” His red irises seem to stare right through you. “May you find fulfillment in your purpose, even if only for the opportunities it has allowed you as it has with me.”

With that and single tilt of his head, Culex’s body disperses into the aether.

“Okay…” Bowser’s voice breaks the lull. “So, uh, last time I checked, the door to this place disappeared. How’re we gonna—”

Your headache is growing by the second, so when the mysterious purple fog begins to whirl around your group almost ferociously, you succumb to the desire to close your eyes. Sure, maybe it was all the mist or maybe it was your eyelids shutting, but it really didn’t make much of a difference since your vision blacked out anyway.

*** * * * * * ***

“So, all that stuff Culex was going on about; it’s all true?”

You wilt under the inquisitive stares of Bowser, Toadstool, and Mallow. Even if it was the Koopa who addressed you with that same weird insightfulness that comes when you least expect it, you throw a harsh glare over at Geno. “_Tch_, you’re no help.”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss these sorts of things,” is all the spirit replies, but his reluctance is clear as day. _Oh no dollface, you’re not getting outta this that easily_.

Shyster beats you to the punch. “Really? And here I was, thinking you and your pals up at Star Road had something to do with them being stolen from their home…” Here his eye holes narrow dangerously. “...unable to go back until they help clean up your mess.”

Geno shifts uncomfortably in his seat, opting to place his elbows on the desk. You’d understand, since these tables of Monstro Town’s inn are a bit too low for you to cross your legs; coupled with your knee being unable to bend underneath you...yeah. Traditional Japanese seating is ill-suited for your dumb joint.

“What’s the shortstack goin’ on about?” Bowser asks, but he’s obviously unnerved. “Hey Starboy, you guys didn’t actually kidnap them, right? I thought _I_ was the only one who had that going for me…”

Seems like you and Geno are on the same page, fidgeting and refusing to acknowledge one another.

“Look,” you interrupt before Geno can respond. Keenly aware of all the eyes drilling into you, you bulldoze on ahead, admiring the wood of the tabletop. “D-does it really matter? I—”

“Whaddya mean ‘does it matter?’” Mallow parrots, horrified. “Of course it should matter! If you’re from a different world, then that means you don’t got anyone—”

“I have Shyster,” tumbles outta your mouth before you can stop it.

The prince shakes his...well, body, but you get the idea. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, sure, makin’ new friends is great and all, but what about your family and friends from home? I mean, all I wanna do is find out where my Ma and Pa are...but we’re not worlds apart! Doesn’t that...I dunno, make you sad?”

Your mouth feels as dry as a desert. The fact you can’t even maintain eye contact with the prince probably says all that needs to be said. Even so, you manage to stutter, “Wh-well, when you put it like _that_, I-I guess...but—”

The princess makes a worried sound. “Aren’t you homesick, though? I’ve only been away from the Mushroom Kingdom for a month or so, yet I miss everything so much I—well, I’ve done my fair share of complaining.” She smiles, but it’s a bit bitter. “I try to tell myself I’m here for my people, but I guess I’m a bit too selfish to keep going sometimes.”

Mario and Geno both whirl on Toadstool with admonishments at the ready. But the princess just shakes her head and informs them that she can’t just rely on the plumber to save the day every single time, which is...y’know. Kudos to the princess; that takes some guts to admit.

“Y’know…” Bowser shifts and crosses his arms. Eyes glaring at something no one else can see, he says, “I understand. About doin’ this—” Here he motions to Mario, “—workin’ with my enemy. It comes down to the fact I wanna make sure Smithy gets his own for kickin’ me to the curb, but more than that, I…”

The Koopa grumbles a bit, cheeks turning dark. “W-well, I want what’s best for my minions; I’m a king, after all! Even if they leave me, I—I still want them to have good lives. Like the shopkeep here; did I tell you guys she’s settled down and had triplets?” Bowser grins, bright and jagged and joyful. “They’re a bunch of brats, _gwar har har_! I’m happy for ‘em, though.”

Toadstool and Mario share a quick look, but the plumber doesn’t nearly match the princess’s enthusiasm.

Mallow is the first to bring you back into the conversation, much to your chagrin. Peering over the table at you, he asks, “We all have our reasons for tagging along, ‘specially Geno, but what about you? If you’re not even from this world, then why’re you helping?” He winces. “Um, not that I mean anything by that…”

You purse your lips and struggle to come up with anything that might make it seem like you genuinely care, but at the end of the day you’re gonna fool no one, yourself included.

The din of the room implies everyone’s waiting for an answer, so you shrug as per usual. You glance up at intense red irises and wonder why Geno’s so invested. Sniffing, you state, “I figure I was brought here for a reason; might as well...I dunno, make practical use of it? Or something...I dunno.”

“Say,” Bowser begins, rubbing his chin, “why do you know so much about all this Smithy business if you ain’t even from this world? I mean, it’s not like I don’t not trust you fishfry—”

“Sharkbait,” you interrupt but the Koopa rolls his eyes.

“—_bah_, details. But how come you know so much about this place when it’s not yours?”

Honestly, you thought you’d be a lot more worried about this whole ‘reveal you’re a self-insert’ conversation, but you can’t bring yourself to invest in it. Probably has to do with the steady headache you’ve had ever since getting smashed into oblivion by Culex, but details.

Shrugging again and steadily ignoring the stares drilling into you from both Geno and Shyster, you state, “I know a buncha stuff. Lotsa things. Uh...that, that clears nothing up, does it? Well, hm.” You feel yourself double blink. “I guess what I’m _trying_ to say is that I know things for tons of other worlds, too. Like—”

“So you’re an actual seer,” Shyster surmises and you make a so-so motion.

“_Ugh_. But that makes me sound super important when I’m _not_; trust me on that.”

“I get that,” Mallow starts, offering you a confused stare, “but how come you didn’t know you had magic? I mean, maybe it’s ‘cause I’m a mage so I can tell those sorts of things, but you have a _lot_ of magic.”

Shyster shifts, drawing all eyes in the process. Considering how he immediately goes, “Hey dollface, is there a reason you’re so quiet or is there something you’re not spilling?” you figure it was intentional.

Geno clasps his hands together and avoids looking at anyone else. Unperturbed, Shyster goes on. “How much of this are you involved in, anyways? As you can probably tell, I’m assuming your silence is an admission of guilt.”

A beat.

The spirit sighs, long and drawn. Closing his eyes, he admits, “I’m not going to pretend like I’m completely innocent in all this, but you have to understand my position. I—I’m not a high-ranking spirit. I don’t have any say regarding how the Grand Stars handle their business. And while I do understand their reasoning, I…”

He opens his eyes and stares directly into yours. “I still believe it was...unnecessarily cruel.”

_Ah_. Interesting.

“I’ll say!” Toadstool chirps. “I can’t imagine being whisked away from everything I know and love—oh. Wait.” She shoots a quick glare over at Bowser, who at least has the decency to look somewhat abashed.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up and over, continuing well after you’ve captured everyone else’s attention once more. Wiping your eyes and still smiling, you glance over at Geno. Shrugging for what feels like the bazillionth time, you say, “It’s fine—well, okay, maybe it’s not in the grand scheme of things, but…”

You glance down at Shyster. Hoping your face isn’t burning up _too_ noticeably, you admit, “If I was never forced to come here, then I would’ve never met _this_ lil’ punk.” You take the moment to aggressively pat the top of his head condescendingly and he curses in his own tongue, swiping at your hand.

“And if I’m being honest,” you continue, “the only reason I’m here helping is ‘cause Shyster here wants to have a go at Smithy. Wherever he goes, _I_ go; p-partners through and through!”

Your smile feels tacky even to you, but a quick glance at the Shy Guy shows him nodding in tandem with your words. The sight calms your nerves; sweet, sweet gratification.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shyster grumbles, blushing just a tad, “but I thought you were here because of spite. What happened to getting back at Smithy for—y’know?”

You clench your fist. “Right; he stabbed me! Indirectly, but it still counts. It’s only fair I return the favor!”

Of course, your sudden good mood has to be ruined by a still-somber Geno. Warily, he asks, “Are you really okay with everything? Like I said before, it’d make more sense if you—if you hated me, like you did _before_.”

You click your tongue. “Okay, for firsts, I never _hated_ you. Terrified about all the stuff you knew regarding me being an alien, yeah! Hoping you’d stop trying to get me to join because I’m not a fan of pain and therefore fighting? Yup. Annoyed when you didn’t? Double yeah. Have my feelings really changed? Also yeah, ‘cause now we’re allies so we’re automatically cool.

“Secondly,” you go on, “I’m gonna guess when you—er, the Grand Stars summoned me here, they also took...some liberties, like giving me magic. So now I can basically blow things up with my mind; _that’s_ a win if I’ve ever heard of one.”

Geno opens his mouth again, but something flickers in his eyes the longer he looks into yours. _Not now_.

Faltering, he sighs and plasters on a smile as wooden as his body. He even goes so far as to shake his head while emitting a stunted chuckle. “How odd…” but he trails off, looking to the side.

“Well, I guess it’s settled!” Toadstool chirps once it’s become abundantly clear Geno isn’t going to say anything else. Radiant eyes sparkling, her gaze drifts back to you as she announces, “The sooner we defeat Smithy and repair the Star Road, the sooner you can go home! So we should hurry—”

“_No_!”

Without thinking about it, you jump from your seat, slamming your hands onto the table with little decorum. Everyone else startles, shooting you confused glances or in Shyster’s case, an unreadable one.

_Wow_, way to go; your sudden outburst is sure to keep suspicion to a minimum. Brilliant, 10 outta 10.

You can practically feel the blood draining from your face as you attempt to stutter up an excuse, but you fail miserably. Biting your lip and lowering your likely panicked gaze, you settle back into your seat, hoping no one can see the beginning of tears. _Goddamnit, not now_...!

Surprisingly, it’s Bowser who breaks the tension. “You...you don’t wanna go home.” Your reaction was clearly too much, since it’s not phrased as a question.

A small, warm hand pats your back. It’s a small comfort to the turbulent thoughts and fears swirling in your mind, but it also gives you enough courage to swallow your unborn tears completely. Then comes the flare of indignation which warms your core more than Shyster’s hand ever could, and you hate yourself a little bit more for being so weak in front of everyone else.

Hesitating briefly, you slowly shake your head. “Not really, no. I—”

You grit your teeth and feel the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I’m a lot happier here. It’s like...a respite, from everything.”

When you finally feel brave enough to meet the stares on the other’s faces, it only further proves your admission. Despite knowing them for barely a couple of months - even less if counting the time spent traveling as one group - they are all listening intently. That sort of attention, that compassion doesn’t come cheap.

“Oh. I-I’m sorry,” Toadstool apologizes but you rapidly shake your head.

“‘S not your fault; just...it’s whatever, y’know? Don’t worry about it.”

_Because at the end of the day, nothing here will affect me in the long-run, whereas with you, everything is at stake. My comfort shouldn’t override your peace of mind_. They’re at the tip of your tongue, but the words refuse to manifest.

It’s then when wooden fingers land on your shoulder. You exchange a pained glance with Geno who simply nods. Instead of saying anything remotely near what you would’ve guessed, he goes, “Aside from Culex, there’s also a dojo in town run by...Jinx, was it?”

Stupefied and a bit confused, you nod.

He looks over at the rest of the group. “Well, since we’re still waiting for the Paratroopas to return, we could challenge him tomorrow; Sharkbait says he’ll give us a useful item too. Plus it’d also give us a day to recuperate after today.”

“Sounds good to me,” Shyster pipes up, pulling away from you to his own side of the table. Gesturing to you, he says, “I’m pretty beat, and _they_ were the one who got knocked out.”

Slowly but surely, everyone comes to the agreement to challenge Jinx tomorrow morning; from there they’ll see if you should continue. For the most part, the only thing the others were concerned about regarding you is to get plenty of rest because magic _apparently_ isn’t a cure-all, particularly in the case of brain injuries. After mentioning how Mario practically stomped Stitch’s snout into the back of his skull who then drank a Pick-me-up and was fine, _still_ they argued for you to just get some rest.

“Bean Valley isn’t that troublesome,” you complain, “so it’s not like I’ll be useless or anything; just give me tonight and I’ll probs be good as new tomorrow morning. I mean, I have most of my magic already—_achk_.”

Shyster shifts again to elbow your side, to which to offer him a glare. He pretends he doesn’t notice it, instead shooing you off with, “Last I checked, _you_ got the brunt of Culex’s spells, _especially_ when you took a hit for Fluffy over there; no offense.”

You wince; so he noticed that, huh. Figures. Welp, you’re probably gonna get an earful later.

Mallow shrugs, but his face twists guiltily. “None taken. Sorry about that, though.”

Making a _pssh_ sound, you wave the prince off. Before you can assure them that moving on would be in everyone’s best interest - in particular for Mallow - Bowser cuts everyone off with an obnoxious yawn. With a quick “I’m beat; get outta my room,” the rest of you filter out and back into your own after final good-byes and good nights.

Once the door is shut behind you and Shyster, he doesn’t hesitate to whirl around, eye holes narrowed dangerously.

Before he can get a word in, you hold your hands up defensively. “Okay, to be fair, I was outta magic. A-and, I mean, Mallow’s spells are a looot more, uh, powerful, sooo....er, y’know, priority—”

Shyster slaps his hands over his mask. “_Ugh_, stars above.”

You hear him take a deep breath before slowly releasing it. Pointing accusingly at you, he seethes, “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t—wouldn’t play meat-shield again! Didn’t I tell you to look out for yourself first and foremost—”

“—so I wouldn’t become a liability, yeah,” you grimace. “B-but, like I said, I’ll probably be fine by tomorrow—”

“_That’s not the point_!” he hisses before huffing a bit. Tone calmer, he says, “Look, I get where you’re coming from, but it’s—you don’t have to prove nothin’ to anyone. You’re pulling your weight, if that’s what you’re worrying about. Not like anyone else knows where all those hidden chests are or where to find useful items; it’d take too much time just _looking_ for them otherwise.”

Although you know you’d be preening under all the praise, at this point and after that conversation, you’re _way_ too tired to even muster a pleased grin. As it stands, you just want to sleep for the next week, regardless of how badly you want to move on.

Moving on means more action, more plot. More stuff happening means less time for the others to focus on your personal problems. At least Geno seems to be on the same page as you regarding that. But Shyster…

“I feel like I’ve done nothing but repeating myself,” Shyster begins, looking you over, “but you’re not a burden. I can practically guarantee no one else here thinks that, too. For _star’s_ sake, we _care_ about you. Why else would _Geno_, of all people, willingly stall his mission?”

“You mean after my outburst?” you retort, immediately regretting how scathing the words sound. Clenching your jaw and unable to meet his eyes, you state, “Sorry. But my problems shouldn’t—everyone else’s got problems, and they, they don’t need mine on top of theirs.”

Shyster sighs. “‘S not my point. Are you even listening?”

When it becomes apparent the question isn’t rhetorical, you hesitantly nod.

“Okay. This—” He sighs again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s not about _your_ problems. Yeah, everyone’s struggling because we’re trying to piece back together some mythical place capable of interdimensional kidnapping—”

You can’t help the snort that comes out, and Shyster’s posture relaxes just a smidge.

“—but what I’m trying to get across is that we’re in this together. Keeping together means being able to trust one another, even when it comes to our own issues. It’s about helping each other out.” Shyster stares you down, as if to cement his words into your mind.

“Look at things in a broad scope,” he continues. “Bowser got kicked outta his castle and he obviously wants back in; the princess is worried about her kingdom as is the plumber; Mallow’s looking for his parents; Geno’s trying to piece together his home—” He tilts his head, like he’s deep in thought. “Ain’t it obvious everyone’s sorting through their own problems with the others’ help?”

Your fingers find themselves tangling in the folds of your bandana. A ghost of a smile passes over your lips. “...just like with Johnny and the crew.”

“Just like back then,” Shyster echoes.

You heave a sigh, feeling like the weight of the world is settling upon your shoulders. Bringing your hands down and folding them on your lap, you hum thoughtlessly. “Yeah. I get it. Doesn’t mean I...I wanna share or anything.”

“Trust me,” Shyster drawls, “I know.”

“...that’s not an invitation for you to use your freakish observation skills to try and figure it out.”

“Sounds like a challenge if I ever heard of one.”

You and Shyster stare at one another for a beat before you both break out into stunted chuckles. Sure, maybe you feel the subtle pangs of homesickness when you think of the cold, rocky beach you’d always seek out. Maybe you even get those same pangs when you think of the warm sands of Seaside Town and the Sunken Ship just yonder, hidden away in the nearby cove that’s as craggy as your own beach.

But at the end of the day, you find yourself not dwelling too long on loneliness, because you have Shyster. And now, you’re lucky enough to have even more people you can count on: the typical self-insert’s dream, as it were.

Once your laughs still, you find enough courage to comment, “I’m just glad you didn’t rip me a new one ‘cause of the whole meat-shield thing.”

“I want to, but I have enough control to restrain myself since you’re still injured.” Shyster saunters over to his bed roll, still splayed on the carpeted floor, and unceremoniously plops down on it. “Speaking of which, you’re taking the bed tonight; you need it more. Plus it’ll give your head more cush for better healing; it did crack like an egg after all.”

You nearly trip onto the bed and sputter. “Wuh-_what_? What do you _mean_ my head ‘cracked like an egg?’”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shyster grumbles. “The princess healed _that_ up easily enough. Get some rest and heal that brain of yours up, too. G’night.”

Aaand the Shy Guy’s breaths even out until he’s softly snoring. Wow, he really wasn’t kidding about being beat. Then again, you spent the latter half of the fight with Culex out like a light. And bleeding out too, apparently.

Snuggling under the thick comforter, you finally allow that fatigue buzzing at the back of your skull to take over. You barely remember to turn off the bedside lamp before you’re drooling all over your pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hap Valentine's Day!
> 
> Here, have some Culex and lore because I'm a sucker for fight scenes _and_ personal issues, lol.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!


	15. Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horticulture comes back to bite reader in the butt; literally, even.

Your sleeping schedule has been officially screwed. At least that’s what you tell yourself when you wake up only to find out it’s several hours past noon.

Groggy and feeling like a steaming pile of crap, you somehow drag yourself into the bathroom to get ready for the day, since you were too tired last night. A nice hot shower later, you feel marginally better.

“Well, lookit who finally decided to get up.”

You startle and whip around, shooting a glare at Shyster. “How many times do I gotta tell you to _not_ sneak up on me? _Jeez_; you about gave me a heart attack.”

It’s then when you pick up on the subtle scent of freshly baked bread. Sure enough, Shyster’s holding a paper baggy undoubtedly holding whatever is making that scrumptious smell. You _did_ go to bed without eating dinner, and the last thing you ate happened to get upchucked because your brain was bruised. Still is, probably, but whatever.

Sifting through the bag, Shyster procures what looks like a bread roll that’s stuffed with eggs, meat, and cheese. He holds it out for you at the same time something distinctly warm and wet drips down your chin and onto the carpet.

Shyster gives you a deadpan look. “...gross. Anyways, try not to choke on this one. And maybe keep it down while you’re at it.”

Swiping your mouth and accepting the food, you quip, “Rude.”

While you stuff your face, he gets you up to snuff regarding the plans. It’s a bit of a shame, but it turns out you completely missed the Jinx battles because you were still sleeping. Like in-game, the dojo master placed the arbitrary three-person limit, which meant he, Toadstool, and Mallow were sidelined. He summarizes the multiple rounds and how hilarious it was watching Mario, Bowser, and Geno get their butts handed to them in the last one. “Shoulda seen how many times the plumber got knocked flat,” he laughs, and you can only imagine.

“Jinx coughed up his belt at the end of it, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Shyster pauses, crossing his arms. “Honestly, I think he gave ‘em it because of pity; they did get their asses handed to them too much for there to be any other reason. Least in my opinion.”

Licking your lips clean of any crumbs, you nod. “Considering how much is left, I’m not surprised. We’re probably, uh, not at our top game, if you know what I mean.” Can’t say ‘low-leveled,’ so it’ll have to do.

“There’s always room for improvement. Case and point, my aim with those stupid flying _nuisances_—”

“You mean the Stingers? Wait; they’re called something else around here…”

“Yeah, those,” Shyster grumbles, sauntering around the room and packing up his belongings. Huh, so that must be your cue that everyone’s planning on moving on. With both Jinx and Culex outta the way, it makes sense.

Tossing your trusty canvas bag over your shoulder, you watch Shyster do the same with his overly large backpack. “So should I break the news to you that there’s more of those bees in Bean Valley, ooor…?”

Your only response is a scathing look and an equally curt, “Get out” as he holds the door open. With a laugh you exit and make your way to the far end of Monstro Town, where the _real_ Land’s End is.

Sure enough, everyone else is waiting at the bottom of the cliff. A quick glance up shows the Paratroopas are already in position, ready to assist you. You just hope you don’t have to jump like that infuriating minigame that would otherwise happen here if this were still just a game behind a screen.

Toadstool waves you over and you limp up to the others. Despite looking like death warmed over, Geno asks how you’re feeling and you reply that you’re probably doing better than he is. He doesn’t even have the energy to contest you, but the fact he gives you an unimpressed look shows he’s not totally out of it. Man, teasing Geno never gets old.

You’re still kinda waking up yourself - takes a minimum of an hour, honestly - so you tune out the head Parakoopa’s speel as he explains how him and his entourage will carry you up.

“Heaviest first,” the Paratroopa announces and unsurprisingly Bowser steps out.

Watching a slew of the flying turtles attempt to carry another, humongous Koopa up a cliff is _hilarious_. You may end up snorting before devolving into a crude fit of laughter at Bowser’s expense. When he shouts down at you “Shut your yap, Fishfry!” it only adds fuel to the fire and you laugh harder. Shyster’s “I’m not helping you” is nearly enough to send you into another fit of hysterics, but you somehow calm yourself.

It takes more than a minute to drag Bowser to the top before the leader swoops down for the next person. Apparently impatient as always, Mario basically runs up to the cliff and, in a surprisingly but somehow expected feat of acrobatics, leaps from one Parakoopa to the next, scaling the cliff in record time. He even has the audacity to do a smug bow when all the Parakoopas pause to give the plumber a round of applause.

Then you step out, figuring you weigh more than the princess and a wooden doll. Heights don’t bother you too much, but it certainly doesn’t stop you from refusing to look at the ground while a few Parakoopas hoist you up.

“You’re lucky I don’t punt you off,” Bowser quips as soon as they dump you onto the edge.

“Please don’t; I don’t have a parachute this time. Not that I knew how to use one then, but y’know.”

Bowser and Mario exchange a quick look before their confusion gives way. Because really, how could they forget it when you were flung from the top of Booster Tower, hollering at the top of your lungs? That sucked _royally_.

The Koopa looks at you with apprehension, maybe? “You’re...a bit of an idiot, aren’t you?” _Oof_. Well, he doesn’t beat around the bush, huh?

Before you can retort or defend yourself, someone lands next to you with a clatter and muted grunt. Shyster repositions his backpack and goes, “Wouldn’t say they’re an idiot, per say. More like reckless and unobservant.”

You roll your eyes, despite how true the words ring. “Ha ha, how lucky I am to have you looking out for me.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

While your face twists unpleasantly, Bowser bursts out into laughter. “_Gwar har har_, who knew the lil’ shortstack had some spunk? And here I was thinking you were just another Shy Guy!”

Shyster lets out an angry _tch_. “You may be a king but I don’t answer to you. Keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself.”

Bowser ignores him and opts to place a massive paw over his hood and rub affectionately. Despite Shyster’s indignant squawking and clawing, the Koopa doesn’t relent and laughs again.

You meet Mario’s eyes as you watch the odd pair bicker. You end up grinning like an idiot while the plumber just huffs, still the silent protagonist as always, but the crinkle around his eyes attests to his laxness. Because really, what reason would Mushroom Kingdom’s hero have to trust the king of Koopas or one who’s usually associated with bandits and crooks? You’re just glad he gets along when it counts. That and you just interacted with Mr. Video Game himself, but that’s another thing entirely.

As soon as Toadstool, Mallow, and Geno join you, you all thank the Paratroopas before turning to trek into Bean Valley.

*** * * * * * ***

Bean Valley, much like you recall in-game, _sucks_.

With a grunt, Shyster swings his mace with such ferocity the Stinger immediately dissipates in a poof of smoke. You all grow lax with the last one taken care of, but the Shy Guy still seethes, “If I have to see one more stupid bee…!”

“I concur,” you spit out, rubbing your butt. “I could do without seeing another Chewy. _Ugh_, I don’t even wanna _think_ about sitting down…”

Bowser flicks the back of your head. Rubbing the stinging spot, you glare at the Koopa who berates, “Woah there, Sharkbait, there’re _children_ present.”

You wrinkle your nose in distaste. “Didn’t even take it there, but okay.”

You both pause for a second before you can’t contain your crude snorts. Seeing Mario and Toadstool exchange deadpan looks while Mallow and _Geno_, of all people, look plain confused makes your snorts morph into cackles. You blame the delerium; you’ve been wandering around for at least a couple hours now, bone-tired but still going.

“Okay, okay…_heh_.” Wiping your eyes and ignoring Shyster’s lidded eyes, you walk over to a suspiciously empty space between the boulders and bushes. Sure enough, a little hop and tumble later, a single frog coin plops out from a hidden chest. You pocket it since it seems like everyone was quick to dump them onto you. “There we are! Lessee here, that makes…”

Your tongue pokes out while you mentally go over the innards of Bean Valley. You’ve already stampeded through the majority of the overworld, if you’re going by the number of pipes you’ve used to get from one isolated plateau to another. Coupled with all the underground passages and the stupid Box Boy miniboss, you’re nearing the actual boss fight of the area, which means you should’ve gotten—

“Red Essence, Kerokero Cola, aaand the frog coin. Yup; I think that’s all the hidden chests!”

“Really?” At your fervent nod, Geno then asks, “Is there anything else we should know about around here?”

You lift up a finger but pause. Eyeing everyone, you say, “I-I’m gonna assume you guys have a Trueform Pin, o-or two, maybe…?”

You watch as the others sift through their personal belongings, but it’s Mario who procures a couple of the accessories. He holds them out and waits for you to finish your exposition. You oblige, trying to not falter under the scrutiny of the plumber. “Uh, s-so, I think you should maybe give one to the princess for sure, ah-and, um. Hmm.”

Mario does as you said, offering one of them to Toadstool who quickly pins it onto her collar, though both still appear a bit confused. The princess is the first to ask why she needs a Trueform Pin, and you in turn ask her if she has a spell that can cure any status condition. When she nods you heave a sigh of relief.

“Okay, that’ll make things _much_ easier…” You eye the autumn colors surrounding you, hoping to catch a glimpse of a flying Shy Guy with a watering can. “Long story short, we’re gonna fight a monster who’ll probably spam a spell that turns us into mushrooms, so. Uh, Trueform Pins would be helpful, to say the least.”

Geno eyes the last Trueform Pin still in Mario’s glove, but the plumber shoots a wry grin at the doll and twists, pinning the button to his overalls. Ah, you guess that’s that then.

Rolling his eyes, the spirit goes, “A monster? Can you tell us what to expect, like what it looks like? Or any other spells it has?”

You explain Megasmilax as best you can, basically summarizing it as a massive Piranha Plant who primarily uses wide-ranging spells. “Aside from Petal Blast; er, that mushroom spell, I remember it also using Flame Wall...or something. Definitely uses fire as its main element, though.”

Mallow hums. “So does that mean it’s weak to ice magic? I could just cast Snowy if that’s the case.”

You shrug, honestly a little unsure. “I think that’ll be our best bet, since both Geno and me have elementless magic. Good call, lil’ guy!”

Still a young boy, the Nimbian preens under the praise with a self-satisfied smile.

“So then we should avoid using fire-based magic at all costs,” Shyster summarizes, eyeing the plumber. Fair, considering how much the local hero loves spamming his fireballs. Mario doesn’t find the hidden accusation amusing, judging by him huffing and rolling his eyes.

Shyster glances at the princess before asking, “Is muting it outta the question?”

You make a so-so motion. “Probably won’t work, yeah. You can try, though.” But he just makes a non-committal sound in response, dropping the topic.

It takes a few last minute tips from your, frankly, awful memory to prep fully for the oncoming fight. Basically it was advised that no one stay close to one another if they aren’t equipped with any accessory that prevents debilitating status conditions. Since you and Shyster are sitting comfy with your Safety Badges, that leaves most others to fend for themselves since you’re pretty sure Megasmilax can poison and mute, too.

A few more pipes later, you finally stumble across the clearing with several other green pipes. As expected there’s tiny sprouts of Piranha Plants weaving out of every one of them. And above them hovers—

“_Do dee doo...hm-hmm-hm_…”

Like an idiot, you watch the Shy Away water a couple of the young plants with his infamous can. Judging by the fact no one else makes a move, even as the plant abruptly sprouts into a fully grown specimen which shortly thereafter slithers toward you, you figure this is probably a cutscene. Or at least everyone’s treating it as such.

Undeterred, Mario leaps into action with a sapphire glow before reaming into the...Piranha Plant…? Or the Smilax with a flurry of high jumps. Faintly, you recall the plumber picking up some thorn-resistant boots back in Monstro Town.

Bowser shortly thereafter joins the fray, clawing viciously at the carnivorous plant while you watch the Shy Away continue his rounds, offering water to every other pipe whilst still humming merrily.

Before you can let loose the Diamond Saws you have at the ready, a mace whizzes past you and nearly crashes into the Shy Away. He lets out a started yelp, flying further away and clutching his watering can close. Despite your best efforts, neither of your saws hit their mark either, and the Shy Away hovers haphazardly through the air.

Shyster grunts, heaving his mace back before readying it for another throw. “I swear, I’m going to perfect hitting flying enemies outta the air, just you wait.”

A thorny vine whips past your calf and wraps around Shyster. The Smilax lifts the Shy Guy up with a sly grin, pearly canines shiny with drool.

Overhead, you hear the Shy Away comment, “O-oh...thank you, my pretties! Now, off I go…_do do doo_…” And he takes his leave, watering the rest of the infernal plants before moving on to the next space.

“Son of a…! Let go, you overgrown house plant!” Shyster hisses, mace virtually useless as he dangles upside down. Also doesn’t help how he’s using one hand to keep his robes covering his lower half, but you figure he’s a Shy Guy, so it makes sense.

You attempt to help but are tripped by another thorny vine. The sharp sting of a cut makes itself apparent, and you hope you don’t stain your socks with more blood; you already have enough of _that_, courtesy of one douchebag Lakitu. Screw you, Buster.

Thin shadows fall over you. Looking up shows the culprits to be a few more vines, pointed threateningly at you as if making to pierce right through you. Well, that doesn’t look too swell.

Before you can roll out of the way or do anything else to defend yourself, a shrill cry carries itself over the sounds of the battle. “_Snowy_…!”

You catch the barest glimpse of a massive snowman, moreso feeling the massive convergence of magic which seems to seep into your core and bite your skin. Then your vision promptly bursts into white and your skin into goosebumps.

The resultant silence is pretty telling, all things considered.

Glancing around shows, yup, every single Smilax is either coated in layers of ice or have already broken into chunks, their stems having been frozen solid. Even the few vines above you are still hovering menacingly like a triade of icicles, ready to fall and stab you regardless of the fact they aren’t alive anymore.

You holler a quick thanks to Mallow, who quickly tends to the others alongside the princess. Getting up, you can’t help but laugh when you see Shyster still suspended by the frozen vine, mask red and eye holes narrowed.

“How about you stop gawking and help me out?” he snarks and you snort louder, but obey.

“Alrighty then, those weren’t Megasmilaxes,” you answer the unspoken question that everyone seems to be aiming your way. Then again, it’s become routine for them to look to you regarding whatever plot-related shenanigans occur; your fault for being a seer, you guess. Jabbing a thumb to where the Shy Away flew earlier, you say, “Megasmilax is probably over there. Sooo...I dunno, heal up now, I guess.”

As soon as Mallow chugs a Honey Syrup and receives Mario’s Trueform Pin - what a nice guy - you set off to what certainly feels like the boss fight of the area.

The Shy Away from earlier is happily humming, readying his watering can over another pipe with another, noticeably larger Smilax sprout. Talk about convenient timing.

Shyster readies his mace for another attempt to swat the other Shy Guy outta the air, but you rush ahead with a quick, “‘Imma try something.”

Channeling your inner jackass, you sprint toward the hovering Shy Away who remains mostly unaware. Hoping this’ll work, you conjure a Storm underneath your own feet and take a leap of faith.

You allow your restraint to fall and your magic bursts underfoot, shooting you into the open air like you hoped it would. What it also does, as perhaps expected by physics, is cause you to fly through the air by flipping uncontrollably due to the force predominantly hitting your legs.

If the Shy Away didn’t notice your approach, he probably sure as hell does _now_, what with you yelling as you cartwheel at him. Honestly, it’s a bit sickening seeing Bean Valley whiz past your vision dizzyingly fast.

“_Doo dee doo_...I—what—?”

You feel yourself ram into another body, halting your suboptimal jump and causing your vision to swirl ever so slightly. Even so, you scramble for purchase and claw at the Shy Away in an attempt to not fall to the ground in a likely painful fashion; he _is_ pretty far up.

Between the Shy Away’s cries of confusion and your yelps of fear, you can barely make out the soft buzzing of his tiny wings. Somehow, they manage to keep the both of you airborn.

“Y-you’re too...heavy…!” the Shy Away grunts and you cling to him tighter, eyeing the ground below. Yup, pretty far down, that.

In spite of basically assaulting the Shy Away mid-flight so he didn’t cause Megasmilax to form, you don’t even think to swipe his watering can. It proves to be a lost cause because, true to his word, the two of you immediately drop when the incessant buzzing of his wings halt.

A scream gets caught in your throat while your guts plummet internally. Your grip slackens and you grasp at anything—but your fingers close around smooth metal instead of warm cloth.

The Shy Away grumbles, “I...can’t…hold…_on_—!”

And he promptly drops his watering can and you by extension.

That yell from earlier comes back full force as you plummet, too hopped up on adrenaline to mind all the water falling from the can. Belatedly, you hear the Shy Away sigh before admonishing, “My watering can…!”

A few things happen in quick succession: for some reason, the water falls faster than you, landing directly on the tiny Smilax below, which immediately sprouts into a full-fledged Megasmilax. So that’s not supposed to happen in-game, but whatever; the entire can _did_ get dumped on the stupid plant.

Then a thorny vine whips up and wraps around you. This sucks because 1) thorns fricken’ hurt, and 2) being jerked from a freefall makes your head spin, so much so you can’t even bother articulating your magic. But hey, on the plus side you’re no longer in immediate danger of becoming a pancake. See, silver lining and all that jazz.

The silver lining is short lived when the vines wrap around you tighter, squeezing your breath away. Not to say being dangled in front of Megasmilax’s largest head wouldn’t also achieve the same effect, but it doesn’t really matter.

Before Megasmilax can chomp your head away from your shoulders, a mace slams into its face. The plant thrashes in obvious pain, jostling you so you’re now upside down. Its vines wrap even tighter, thorns cutting into your exposed skin with ease. _Oh man, getting the blood out of your clothes is gonna be a pain in the ass_.

“Oh no...I hope Lady Valentina won’t be too angry…”

You squint and see the Shy Away flitting about anxiously. A quick glance down at the battlefield shows why: the watering can has been crushed underfoot by Bowser, who’s currently tearing away at a smaller head.

As it is, you’re pretty much stuck in every sense of the word. With your arms being crushed against your sides, it’s not like you can use your magic without running the risk of also harming your teammates. After all, there’s a very viable reason why most video game mages use wands or other accessories: makes your aim better.

You grimace when the vines dig around your ribcage, the side you were stabbed aching painfully with the movements. Yeah, definitely didn’t heal right.

“Oh, but wait a moment.” The Shy Away hovers near you, clearly getting a closer look. Hanging around Shyster shows his mask subtly change to show his dawning joy. “Ah, aren’t you the seer the surface has been talking about?”

You don’t immediately reply because you’re still struggling for air.

The Shy Away hums thoughtfully, hand pressed to his chin. “If you manage to get to Nimbus Land...oh no, then Lady Valentina won’t be pleased at all. _Hmm_, what to do…”

Ignoring the tight vines, you manage to grit out, “Lemme go.”

But the Shy Away ignores you in favor of peering down at Megasmilax. “Well, I guess my pretties will take care of it for me. It’s just a shame Lady Valentina’s watering can was destroyed. Oh well. _Do dee doo_…”

And he flies away, leaving you dangling. You hiss in pain, hating how the blood rushing to your head seems to coagulate there instead of circulating like a proper system should. _Ugh_, your feet are already numb...

Spitting away the loose bandana tied around your neck, you’re left watching from above.

Through your light-headedness, you try your best to be helpful. Whenever Megasmilax’s breath grows hot you warn everyone of an impending Flame Wall or Mega Drain, even if doing so always results in your vision briefly blanking out due to lack of air.

When it’s nearly too much effort to even gasp, a brilliant orange circlet whizzes past, deftly slicing through the vines wrapped around you. You lurch and feel yourself begin to plummet only to be halted yet again. A cursory look shows the culprit to be another set of vines hoisting you toward one of the smaller Smilax heads. Great.

With the blood clogging your brain gone, you wait until the plant’s maw is already opening to bite you. Wriggling one arm free from the already strained vines, you summon a quick Diamond Saw. A little kick of your magic to get it going is all it takes to use the latent spell as a makeshift buzzsaw.

A splatter of a strange, viscous green fluid later, the Smilax head falls to the ground with a heavy _thud_. Apparently, the vines holding you up must’ve been under that head’s control because you shortly follow, landing painfully on your butt.

You hiss. First you got bit in the ass by a Chewy earlier, and now this? Son of a—

Warm magic innervates you until most of the pain disperses. Shooting a thumbs up and a quick “thanks,” you wave the princess off and she rushes to aid Geno, who just got flung after getting walloped by one of Megasmilax’s vines.

Clamoring back upright, you don’t wait to join the fray.

The battle goes like any other battle you’ve seen involving the central party: go hard or go home. Which basically translates to everyone spamming their strongest attacks in the hope that Megasmilax will be beaten sooner rather than later. You’re not complaining; not broke don’t fix it, yadda yadda yadda.

“Snowy!” Mallow cries as a swarm of snow manifests itself as a gigantic snowman which, after blinking a few times, promptly explodes in Megasmilax’s face...s. Still two heads remaining, after all.

The plant monster hisses its displeasure and retaliates by pulling magic into its stems—wait a sec.

“That’s Petal Blast!” you yell, already limping away from the others. “Least I’m pretty sure it is!”

“It’s a different spell compared to Flame Wall,” Mallow agrees, more freezing cold magic twirling around his palms, likely to manifest as yet another Snowy. You also hear the ominous sound of bells, but you doubt Shyster’s Doom Reverb will work.

And you’re right. Before the prince can cast his own spell, you watch in subdued fascination as Megasmilax’s thorny vines bloom hundreds of these pretty, pink blossoms. You think you even hear the princess comment on the spectacle before the boss shudders, inciting all the flowers to spontaneously disperse. More magic causes their petals to twirl violently in the air, scattering around the area to hit everyone.

Honestly, you weren’t expecting flower petals to hurt so damn much, but the ones that do fly past you slice through your skin like paper would. In essence, your exposed arms and legs sting like a _bitch_.

It’s then when you notice the distinct lack of some voices echoing about. A hurried glance shows that Mario, Bowser, and Geno all got turned into mushrooms. Or at least you hope so, since you’re pretty sure mushrooms aren’t supposed to have wide, frightened eyes nor are they capable of squirming pathetically. Kinda cute, really.

You nearly curse when you notice Geno must’ve been caught up in Petal Blast right after it was cast, because the blue mushroom is desperately trying to squirm away from Megasmilax’s smaller head.

Hating how wobbly your knee is, you sprint at him, hurling a couple Diamond Saws in hopes of distracting the boss. But the plant shrugs off your spells in favor of slowly descending on the helpless spirit, fanged mouth already gaping to swallow him.

Last ditch effort mode: _activated_.

With a strained breath, you kneel before propelling yourself forward in a dive. You skid in front of Geno just in time...for the Smilax to bite down on your ass.

“_Son of a_—” you cut yourself off with a shrill yelp of pain. “_Augh_, not _again_…!”

You’re still reeling from the pain and sort of hoping the bite mark doesn’t leave holes in your shorts when vines wrap around you. You clamp your arms around the - oddly enough - sweating mushroom before Megasmilax lifts you. Dangling in the open air again, you clutch Geno close.

Though upside down, you manage to see the others healing themselves during your fiasco. Thankfully, the princess already cured Bowser and Mario; the only one left as a mushroom is Geno.

Scanning the ground shows Shyster hovering nearby uncertain, probably because he can’t risk ramming Megasmilax with his mace without potentially hitting you too.

“Shyster!” you call, and his head quirks down—rather, _up_ in attention. Swinging a bit and growing dizzier by the second, you relax your hold on Geno. “Catch!”

And you chuck the mushroom as hard as you can in the Shy Guy’s general direction.

You grin when you see Shyster manage to catch the mushroom before the vines around you tighten uncomfortably, swaying. Well, at first; their motions shortly devolves into just slamming you into the ground.

The wind is knocked clean outta you, leaving you gaping like a fish. Too dazed to try and conjure more Diamond Saws to cut yourself free, you’re left at the mercy of Megasmilax. It slams you a few more times and you hope Toadstool has enough magic to heal you because _man_ you’re gonna be feeling this for a bit.

A lull presents itself when Megasmilax returns to simply dangling you in front of its largest head. Before it can take another bit out of you, you hastily kick the plant in its stupid dumb face. It reels back, hissing, and ever the smartass, you quietly grunt, “What? My ass not good enough anymore?”

Megasmilax growls, but it turns into another pained hiss when you see an orange circlet fly past you. You don’t have the time to scream when you immediately plummet, but you’re thankfully caught before you can go splat.

“While I didn’t appreciate being thrown,” Geno starts as he sets you down, “it allowed Toadstool to heal me. So, thanks for _that_. Now—”

With a gentle touch, his magic flares around you before settling. Geno Boost; nice.

He helps you stumble out of Megasmilax’s reach while the others occupy the boss’s attention. The princess is already waiting for you and soon enough, the vast majority of your wounds close up. “Sorry,” she apologizes with a sad smile, “but I’m running a little low of magic myself.”

“Don’t sweat it,” you say. Normally, her healing spells would reinvigorate you too, but apparently when she’s tired she can only heal physical wounds and not general fatigue. Good to know for the future. “I’ve still got a few more spells in me anyways.”

Geno’s arm makes a series of _clicks_ as it shifts into a gun. Tilting his head toward where Mario and Bowser are physically assaulting Megasmilax, he comments, “Looks like we’ve almost worn it down. I would say to try and use your largest spells, but unless it has…_bait_, it’ll probably resort to its spells.”

You nod. “Gotcha; Diamond Saw it is, then. Least it’s a mostly stationary target.”

The doll smirks. “That it is.” And he leaves your side, raining bullets onto the boss.

Falling back to stick around Shyster, you fling a pair of Diamond Saws, cutting through a few more of Megasmilax’s thorny vines. You continue casting every so often, more or less whenever a melee-fighter backs of momentarily. Still, it’s pretty funny seeing Mario resort to slamming his hammer into the plant’s heads because jumping leaves him open to getting wrapped in the vines...like right now.

You watch the plumber become the next victim of the whole slamming attack. You wince and share a quick look with Shyster. Luckily, Geno uses another Geno Whirl to free the guy and before long the two of them continue their physical pummeling.

The smaller Smilax head hisses when Shyster hits it with his mace, scattering fangs everywhere. _Oof_, that had to hurt.

“_Snowy_!”

Shyster returns to your side and you both watch Mallow’s spell take effect. Once the freezing cold dissipates, Megasmilax hisses once more before shuddering violently.

You can only gape when its colors dull before the entire plant withers, turning into dust which the breeze shorty scatters.

“Huh…” And then you promptly heave a sigh, fatigue washing over you uncomfortably. “Well, thank goodness that’s over with; I could do with never having my butt bit again.”

Shyster snorts, securing his mace to his belt. “I could do without fighting another plant any time soon.”

“As far as I can recall, there’s no more—” can’t say ‘bosses’, so, “—particularly...strong plant-based enemies from this point on. All I remembered was Megasmilax being _really_ tough, just ‘cause of the whole Petal Blast spell.”

But the leftover bosses are Valentina and Dodo, then the Czar Dragon, Axem Rangers…_hmm_, you’re too tired to even _try_ remembering the multitude of others in Bowser’s castle and Exor; er, the factory inside Exor. All you know for sure is that there’s a lot.

“Good,” is Shyster’s gruff response. Crossing his arms and picking up his abandoned backpack - too heavy to fight in - he asks, “Now where to? Are we supposed to follow that Shy Away or what?”

You grumble a bit, suddenly remembering that in order to _get_ to Nimbus Land, you had to go through another arduous dungeon-like section. Stupid clouds and those stupid spring things...well, maybe since it’s real life the depth perception shouldn’t be an issue…? But then there’s all those patrolling enemies...

Sighing, you wait for everyone else to come together before you explain anything. You do sate Shyster by stating, “I hope I won’t have to jump; my knee’s at its limit.”

Shyster raises a brow; rather, lids one eye hole. “Why not repeat that party trick you used earlier? That was pretty funny, not gonna lie.”

“...because I’m not a fan of heights. You’ll understand in a bit.”

Once Toadstool drinks a Honey Syrup and tends to everyone, Geno’s the first to bring up the next step. “I take it you know where we’ll be heading next?” At you nod, he glances at the sky; still blue but it’ll only last a couple more hours at best. “Can we _reach_ this place by nightfall?”

“Uhhh…” You scan over everyone, noting how you’re not the only one looking like hell warmed over. “It...depends. Probably, if we start climbing soon.”

“Okay—hold on; _climbing_?” Geno looks around the clearing before staring up into the mostly clear sky. Squinting, he says, “This isn’t some sort of joke like with Culex, is it? Not that I’m doubting you, but where would we even climb _to_?”

Shrugging, you admit, “I’m not gonna give away anything that’ll come back to potentially kick my butt later; I have _some_ self-preservation.”

“Coulda fooled me,” echoes from both Bowser and Shyster, who eye one another before looking away with a huff. _Ha_, cute.

“Aaand we’ll be climbing a vine that should sprout outta a box...thattaway,” you explain, pointing in the direction the Shy Away flew off to. There’s also a small dirt path hidden beneath an overgrowth of bushes, but if you can see it surely the others can.

Once you establish you can all rest at the destination, you begin heading out. Unfortunately, your idle chatter is halted when Toadstool’s worried voice pipes up, “What’s wrong, dear?”

Turning shows Mallow looking down at the ground. Frowning, he shrugs a bit. “Just...kinda homesick, I guess. And wonderin’ if I’ll ever meet my parents.”

The prince perks up at the same time Shyster nudges your leg. Seems like the Shy Guy wasn’t the only one goading you, what with Mario, Geno, and _Bowser_ of all people leveling steady stares at you.

“Oh! Well, we _do_ have a seer amongst us…” The princess shoots you a wry grin and you balk a little. “I bet Sharkbait knows where your parents are!”

Mallow blinks. “I...y’know, I never even thought to ask.”

Before he can ask you anything, you can’t stop the startled laugh that bubbles up and over at his hopeful gaze. Before anyone can take it the wrong way, you spit out, “S-s-sorry, it’s just—_snnrk_! The timing’s _really_ funny, ah-and I—” You dissolve into crude laughter again.

“Just—yeah, I know where your mom and dad are,” you finally state. Your heart nearly melts when Mallow’s beady little eyes sparkle and you wonder why you never thought to tell the poor boy sooner. You tell yourself it’s not because you still think of them as mere characters in a video game, but you know deep down you’ve just been going from point A to point B, personal feelings be damned. In your effort to ignore your issues, you also forgot Mallow’s.

“I, I can tell you,” you start, swallowing the guilt, “but are you _sure_ you want to know? Like, everything…?”

That gives Mallow pause. Tilting in thought, he eventually settles for a small shrug. “I guess...all I really wanna know is when I’ll get to meet ‘em. I...I _will_ meet them, right?”

Smiling down at the confused Nimbian, you state, “If things go according to plan, you’ll be seeing your parents _really_ soon. Maybe even tomorrow if we’re feeling up to it.”

The words cause everyone to pause, clearly surprised.

Toadstool breaks the quiet with a squeal. “Oh Mallow! I’m so happy for you…!”

It takes a little bit for it to sink in, but when it does the prince beams up at you. In an instant he vaults at you, wrapping his arms around your legs and it really does feel like your heart’s melting, what with how hot the embarrassment burns. “Thanks so much, seer—um, Sharkbait…!”

Prying himself away with a bounce in his step, Mallow hurries to the path with a cheery, “Well, let’s get a move on, guys!”

Sighing, you watch Mario and Toadstool bound after the kid with a loopy grin on your face. Bowser seems to notice because he snorts, elbowing you. “What’s the matter, squirt? You look like you saw a ghost, _gwar har_!”

“I...I dunno.” You heart pounds almost painfully when you admit, “Making others happy feels good, I guess.”

You stew over the words and find that they ring true, even after you’ve already laid them out for the open air to take.

Bowser shoots you some kind of look, but you’re unable to decipher it before he settles for a lopsided smirk. His hand is bigger than your head, nearly blocking out your vision when he playfully ruffles it before following the others.

Geno waits for them to approach the bushes covering the path before glancing at you. He opens his mouth to speak but halt himself with a shake of the head. “We should catch up,” is what he eventually settles for.

“...that was odd,” you comment long after the spirit left. Shyster exhales, long and heavy.

“C’mon,” he says, ushering you forward, “the sooner we reach our destination, the sooner _you_ can shower and _I_ can get some shuteye. Those flying assholes always take it outta me.”

“Do I really stink that bad?”

“You smell like grass clippings,” Shyster states, pushing past the bushes. “And blood. Then again, Piranha Plant blood always smells like a freshly cut lawn. But you _look_ stars-awful; I’m hurting just lookin’ at your sorry state.”

You both pause to watch Mario leap up into the single, innocuous item block. Sure enough, a massive beanstalk sprouts up and up until it disappears into a blanket of fluffy clouds.

“Yeah,” you agree after a beat. “At least I have a spare shirt!”

“...you need new shorts.”

Shyster’s turned away from you, mask tinged pink as he crosses his arms. You wonder why before looking closer at your lower half and—

Thankful you always opt for baggy shirts, you pull your tee lower and hiss, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Still refusing to look at you, Shyster stomps ahead and just growls, “Hurry it up, but _try_ to stay behind us.”

You huff a bit but oblige, limping toward where Bowser is heaving Toadstool onto the beanstalk. When it’s your turn to be hefted up onto the plant, you grasp onto the central stem and wonder how the leaves can support your weight. Scratch that; it’s impressive they can support Bowser, because there’s hardly any give when he clamors up onto the stalk himself.

“Now what?” the Koopa growls.

Craning your neck shows what looks like miles before the beanstalk reaches the first layer of clouds. At least they’re spaced just so to mimic a staircase.

You reply, “Now we climb until we reach Nimbus Land.”

*** * * * * * ***

It’s practically nightfall by the time your party heaves themselves into Nimbus Land.

For being, presumably, hidden by magic, the cloud-based city is _humongous_. And despite the foundation being springy clouds, the many buildings scattered about are made up of what looks like some sort of sandstone, intermittent with wood which sprouts the leafy roofs like in the game. Those same pale bricks line out roads through the clouds, winding this way and that, forming a maze from one building or home to the next. Lanterns filled with lit candles provide light to the darkening pathways, hanging from more of those trees which sprout from the clouds.

Regardless of how utterly spent you feel, you can’t help but gape a bit. Nimbus Land is _gorgeous_.

“Wow,” Toadstool breathes, clasping her hands in front of her mouth. Yeah, same here.

You watch Mallow gently walk further onto the nearby street, taking in his surroundings with wide eyes. Turning back to you, he fiddles with the pockets in his pants and bashfully asks, “Is this...where I come from?”

Unable to stop the grin, you nod.

The prince just blinks, mouth pulling itself into a small smile. You bet if he weren’t as bushed as the rest of you, he’d be jumping about with unrestrained joy. As it is though, you just want to find the inn and call it a day.

“What about fluffy’s parents?” Bowser grumbles once the Nimbian skips ahead, out of earshot. “Shouldn’t we...y’know, tell ‘em we got their kid?”

You make a so-so motion. “It’s...um, complicated. We’ll probably sort this out in the morning.” _Plus we won’t draw too much attention due to it being so late; after all, Mallow is practically identical to a younger King Nimbus_. But you keep that tidbit to yourself, biting your lip to do so.

Over the suspicious looks both Geno and Mario are shooting you, Shyster grumbles, “Not like any of us are ready to do much of anything ‘sides sleep. I say we go find the inn.”

It doesn’t take much to sway the general opinion, especially since they seem to trust your judgement that Mallow will reunite with his parents soon enough.

Once Mario spots the telltale spinning star sign, your group seems to heave a collective sigh of relief. The plumber is the first to push past the fabric covering the carved entryway and before long, you find yourself standing in the inn’s lobby.

A sole Nimbian barely glances up from the front desk before he does a double-take, beady eyes trained on your ragtag team.

“Woah…” he breathes, clearly in awe as he shuts his book. “I—are you from the surface?”

Getting serious _Cave Story_ vibes from his terminology, you nod in the midst of everyone else’s confusion. The clerk blinks before offering you a warm smile. “I apologize for staring; it’s just that we haven’t been getting travellers for some time. It’s kinda lonely running a business like this when there’s hardly anyone to take advantage of it, _ha ha_! But please, come in, come in! I certainly have the space for you all…”

It’s then when the Nimbian seems to notice Mallow, who’s currently looking around at the various tapestries strung about. He does yet another double-take, even going so far as to rub his eyes as if _he’s_ the one who’s dead tired.

You feel the beginnings of anxiety ripple through you; maybe it won’t be _too_ bad for Mallow to learn he’s a prince now rather than tomorrow…?

Surprisingly, it’s _Geno_ who interjects, “Our rooms…?”

The Nimbian remember himself and plasters on another cheery smile. He lists the price but offers a discount due to being surface-dwellers; “Haven’t seen any in a long, long time. So it’ll be 15 coins per person instead of the normal 25!”

After paying him the sorta hefty fee, he turns with a flourish and leads your party down a hall made from that same, chiseled stone-like substance. Unlike the door frames, the carved windows are empty, allowing you to look out over Nimbus Land and the starry nighttime sky beyond. _Pretty_…

True to his word, there’s enough empty rooms to house everyone comfortably. But in the end, Geno opts to stay with Mario and Bowser in order to keep an eye on them, leaving Mallow and Toadstool to their own devices; as per usual, you’re boarding with Shyster.

After saying your good-nights, you’re quick to push aside the cloth and enter your...spacious room. Wow, there’s actually enough space for there to be two seperate beds and even a large table, coupled with cloud-based chairs to boot. Silken tapestries hang from various latches alongside glowing lanterns, and the ceiling is made up of dense foliage from the various tree branches weaving amongst one another.

Tossing your bag onto one of the fluffy beds, you take a peek inside the bathroom—well, you certainly got your money’s worth. It’s practically luxury, what with the chiseled tub that also resembles a hot tub, the fancy toiletries and towels; heck, the single window peeks out over the edge of Nimbus Land until you can see most of the world map below. Well, barely, but it’s still a sight to behold.

“While I can admire a good bathroom,” Shyster starts, startling a yelp from you, “I’d rather, y’know, use it. So either you get in the shower or I will.”

Keenly aware of how dirty you are, you just roll your eyes and shoo the Shy Guy back into the room. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.”

The shower proves to be refreshing, because both you and Shyster are in notably higher spirits after washing away the day’s grime. And once you both settle into your respective beds, you can’t help the pleased sigh you emit.

“_Ohhh man_, for preferring harder surfaces, this feels pretty dang good.”

Shyster grunts in agreement. “Almost too soft, but somehow isn’t. Impressive considering it’s made of clouds.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

The two of you fall into your normal routine of idle chit chat before he, in all his stupidly accurate observation, says, “So I’m gonna take a guess and say marshmallow’s a pretty important person here. Or would be, if he grew up here.”

“...uh-huh. What gave it away _this_ time?”

Shyster snorts at your unimpressed tone, crossing his stubby arms behind his head. “Plenty of things, really. I mean, it was pretty obvious once you made it clear we were supposed to climb through all those dumb clouds, which, when coupled with how many flying _assholes_—”

You laugh. “You mean the Paratroopas and Birdies?”

“Yeah, those. Point is, them hovering around that beanstalk meant there was something worth protecting; a city hidden in the clouds seems to fit that bill. I mean, the kid looks like he’s made outta clouds—”

“Probably is, yeah.”

“—so put two and two together. He’s from Nimbus Land, obviously. The way the clerk eyed the kid like he recognized him was the first inkling…’til I remembered how you offered to tell him ‘everything’ instead of just saying something like ‘oh yeah, your parents are so and so in Nimbus Land, which is where we’re heading.’ So in retrospect, it was your actions that solidified my theory,” Shyster finishes.

You roll your eyes and turn, looking out the window to admire the view.

“So are you gonna tell me what he actually is, or what?” Shyster asks and you stifle a laugh.

You pretend to stew on it before you bite your lip in hidden glee. “I mean,” you start, resisting the urge to cackle, “you’re already _so_ sure of yourself, I dunno...why not wait until t’morrow and see for yourself? Think of it like a surprise; it’ll be fun!”

You don’t even try to halt the snickers when Shyster rears his head at you, eye holes slitted ever so slightly. “Y’know, it seems sketchy for you to omit key details; don’t think I’m the only one who notices.”

Dully, you say, “Trust me; both Geno and Mario made that part pretty clear.”

“So there must be something else goin’ on here; something you’re unwilling to challenge, judging by the lack of concrete plans. And whatever it is involves that little puffball, am I right?”

You flinch a bit, playful mood gone. Wincing a bit, you admit, “Kinda. It’s just…”

You blink a few times, suddenly remember a pretty important element. Plus, it’ll make it seem more so like you thought ahead instead of...doing exactly what you’ve been doing for the most part, here in video game-land.

Shifting uncomfortably, you explain, “I don’t wanna make a move immediately. It’s—I’m pretty sure there’s hostages in the palace—”

“_What_?!” Shyster sits up, eyeing you. “Then shouldn’t we be taking action sooner rather than later?”

You hiss a vehement _shushing_ noise. “Quiet! Look, I get your concerns, but I’m _also_ pretty dang sure said hostages aren’t being, like, tortured or anything; they’re just servants who’ve been relegated to keeping hush-hush about...about a cover-up.”

Ignoring Shyster’s incredulous energy, you wave your hands in defense. “Okay, okay; I know, I know. Just...I don’t even know if said servants are hostages _yet_. Like, I dunno if Valentina even—”

“Who’s Valentina?”

You huff, losing patience. Just wanting this conversation to be done with, you rapidly explain, “Tomorrow, if everything goes according to plan, we’ll infiltrate the palace and eventually beat the crap out of a woman named Valentina, her accomplice Dodo, and free Mallow’s parents. _There_; are you satisfied?”

You hear Shyster mutter “Mallow’s parents” under his breath before shaking his head. Looking back to you, he asks, “So something’s gonna happen tomorrow that’ll be our cue.”

“Should be, at the very least.”

Shyster looks down at the patterned quilt in thought. “So then it’s probably important we don’t let Mallow wander out and about, otherwise he’ll be recognized. And that cover-up—”

You breathe a sigh of...relief? Or maybe it’s dread, because having Shyster on the same page without all the background information is pretty scary, not gonna lie.

“It involves him, yeah,” you say. Shyster nods once in understanding.

“Got it. So here’s the plan for tomorrow morning; _I’ll_ keep the kid busy here while _you_ go get another pair of shorts.”

You choke on a breath. “_Ahck_; rude.”

Ignoring you, the Shy Guy rolls over and grumbles, “Consider it a necessary evil. Now get to sleep; sounds like we’ll be needing it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops; late update. Still trying to keep to the chapter-per-two-weeks schedule.
> 
> Anywho, I'm just gonna drop this here. Hope you enjoy!


	16. Catch and Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader reaches a tipping point.

Valentina isn’t what you expected.

Sure, she looks like a human save for the, er, exceptionally wide face and exotic parrot masquerading as her hair, but you don’t know if you’ve ever seen any other human as tall as her. Like, you’re pretty sure the woman’s pushing eight feet _easily_, and that’s not even taking into account her heels.

And as she’s infamously known for in-game, she has zero qualms about showing off her physique. Understandable, given how curvaceous she is, but then again her skin-tight, low-cut dress doesn’t even bother leaving anything to the imagination.

Unlike in-game, she isn’t carding around a margarita but instead a poofy, feathered fan, which she uses to hide her crude laugher.

“_Ohoho_…! Well, I suppose if that’s the case, then I’ll be Nimbus Land’s new Queen.”

Watching her little...scene alongside Dodo is proving to be far less entertaining and more...what’s the term you’re looking for? Embarrassing? Nah; stupefied works just as well.

Once the woman returns inside the palace alongside the clearly avian and not-at-all Nimbian “Prince Mallow,” you listen to the crowd’s murmurings.

“Lady Valentina...becoming Queen…?”

“Well, she _is_ the royal advisor. Even so…”

“Was Prince Mallow’s coronation ever held? Or was it perhaps a private event?”

“What does the _current_ King and Queen have to say about this?”

“Prince Mallow sure looks like he could lose a few pounds.”

Eventually the crowd of Nimbians disperse, leaving you standing amongst the others. Idly, you wonder if you were supposed to seek out Garro _first_ or just let Mallow learn via gossip that he’s the lost prince of Nimbus Land.

“...huh.” You glance down at Shyster and he just crosses his arms. “So that’s the cover-up you were referring to.”

Geno shoots the both of you a look - probably wants in on your conversations, heh - before intertwining his fingers in thought. “While I’m interested in whatever…_that_ was,” the spirit starts, clearly at a loss, “I’m more curious as to whoever this ‘Garro’ is.”

_Ah_, must’ve mentioned his name when you caught a glimpse of him in the crowd earlier.

“Right. He’s the, uh, royal...sculptor, I guess…?” You end up shrugging, not too sure of his precise occupation. “He makes ‘em at least. In fact, we should _prooobably_ find him soon.”

And that’s how you stumble through Nimbus Land’s streets, looking for his shop. It proves to be a bit difficult because your group has been let in on the fact Mallow - _your_ Mallow - is the prince...well, at least you think so. Surely they’re not so oblivious as to realize Mallow isn’t...y’know _prince_ Mallow. Regardless, you’ve all taken to walking in a formation surrounding the young Nimbian. Mallow, for all his obliviousness, doesn’t seem to care.

“Oh boy, a wedding! I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those before,” he comments, tilting his...body in confusion. “It’s a bit weird hearing about another person named Mallow, though. Maybe we can be friends…”

You exchange looks with basically everyone else, who simply purse their lips in quiet bewilderment. At least Toadstool has the decency to respond to the boy in kind, gushing over weddings...while also shooting dirty looks at Bowser in reference to their time in Merrymore. “That _hardly_ counts as a wedding,” she states, and Mallow shrugs with a simple “I figured.”

“You know,” Bowser starts, slightly nudging you, “you told us how we’d be breaking into the castle, but you never told us _why_.”

You open your mouth but it’s Geno who answers.

The doll crosses his arms, eyeing the various Nimbian civilians hustling about. “From what I could parce together walking around this morning, it seems like the current King and Queen have fallen ill. There are also rumors surrounding the fact Nimbus Land segregated itself from the surface world several years ago, but no reason was ever given. We _did_ have to fight our way up here, after all, so I guess the rumor’s true enough.”

Oh…? _Lore_? You hum thoughtfully, suddenly more invested.

“Makes sense when you consider everything,” Shyster comments, earning everyone else’s attention. “How come no one’s heard of Nimbus Land before? Plus it’s obvious Valentina’s a giant—” At your perplexed look, he further explains, “Essentially, she’s not to be trifled with due to giants having immense magical potential. That leads me to think this whole cover-up involving the King, Queen, and...y’know, probably began when Nimbus Land separated itself from the surface. Couple that with the fact Valentina’s the _royal advisor_ and _both_ the King and Queen are indisposed…”

His analysis earns a few wide eyes and impressed breaths, and rightfully so. You butt in, saying, “Oh yeah, and then the whole thing with marrying D—y’know, then—”

“She wants power, plain and simple,” Bowser surmises, much to everyone else’s surprise. He balks a bit, blushing before crossing his arms. He huffs, “What? I’m a king too, y’know; usurping is pretty common. Talk about havin’ no respect…”

Mario scratches the side of his head, eyeing Mallow who returns the confused glance.

The Nimbian asks, “So that’s why we’re gonna go after Valentina? ‘Cause she did something to the King and Queen?”

Geno says “I wouldn’t go that far…” at the same time you blurt out “Yeah, pretty much.” The spirit offers you a disgruntled expression, silently flinging his arms out and you just hunch your shoulders and shrug in defense.

“Well, shouldn’t we go and do something?” Mallow hops up, fists at the ready. It’s endearing, especially so when he tacks on, “C’mon! The sooner we save Nimbus Land the sooner I can meet my mom an’ dad!”

So the rest of you continue searching for Garro’s workshop, which turns out to be relatively close to the palace.

Pushing aside the doorway tapestry shows a relatively quaint studio, small yet filled to the brim with a variety of works in progress and various instruments scattered about. Amongst the organized rabble stands a lone Nimbian; judging by the simple tan clothes and the telltale curl of green...hair? Cloud? Well, it’s Garro all right.

A tiny bird in a nearby cage chirps, alerting the sculptor.

“Come in, come in! Please excuse the mess…”

Garro shuffles behind a craftsmen table, as evidenced by the various blocks of clay, some of which appear half-sculpted. With his back to your group, you exchange looks with everyone else when it becomes apparent the man won’t turn around on his own volition; something about “Valentina’s commission” according to his heated muttering.

“Um...excuse us, sir,” Toadstool begins. ‘Course; always the royalty with the proper decorum. “Are you Garro, by any chance?”

The sculptor finally turns around. Looking your group up and down, he plasters on a tired smile and affirms, “Why, yes I am! Although I’m pretty, erm, swamped with work, is there an order you’d like to put through…?”

But his voice grows quieter, eventually petering out into shock. Beady eyes blink rapidly and he rubs them like the innkeeper did the night before. “I...goodness me, are you from the surface?”

“Well—” you spit out before anyone else can answer, “—all of us except _this_ lil’ guy.”

With a tiny nudge, Mallow steps out from behind Bowser’s lumbering frame.

The reaction is immediate: Garro’s confusion gives way to utter disbelief. The Nimbian even goes so far as to slowly approach the younger boy in a very dream-like state, almost floating over. Well, on second thought, he _is_ made of clouds so he probably _does_ float.

“Great stars above,” he breathes, scratching his chin. He glances back at a statue resting in the corner, nearly covered by a nearby tarp. With haste the sculptor brushes aside the cloth and peers closer at, from your perspective, what looks like a golden replica of Mallow.

Garro searches between the statue and the prince, murmuring thoughtfully.

Seeming to notice Mallow’s growing discomfort, Geno crosses his arms. Heaving a sigh, the spirit dryly intones, “Is there a problem, Mr. Garro?”

Bowser and you suppress a snort at how snide the doll’s voice is, but it seems to fly over the sculptor’s head.

It’s only when Mario and the princess approach to get a closer look does a reaction get elicited. Mario’s eyes widen almost comically and he, too, resorts to doing double-takes between the golden replica and Mallow. Toadstool, on the other hand, purses her lips before quipping, “Er, is there a reason why you have a statue of Mallow?”

The name causes Garro to sputter a bit. “I-I—_this_ is actually a statue of his highness King Nimbus, only when he was just a lad.” He glances down at Mallow, then back to the statue. “...by the stars, the _resemblance_—”

Turning around to fully address your group, the sculptor reiterates, “You—you did mention all of you are from the surface, yes?” You nod in lieu of everyone else. Focusing on you, he goes on. “Which implies _that_ young boy also came from the surface, yes?” He glances down at Mallow and you nod again.

Finally, he stares down at the younger Nimbian and directly asks, “Your name; what is your name, son?”

Mallow answers nonchalantly.

And all at once the man seems to sag. “By the stars…”

You try - and probably fail - to hide a growing smile, which thankfully goes unnoticed to everyone else’s growing confusion. Well, aside from Shyster, but he slightly nudges your leg and puts a hand to his mouth hole. You like to believe you know him well enough to sense the mischievousness in his frame.

“Um, Mr. Garro…? Is everythin’ alright?” Mallow asks.

“There is no mistaking it: _you_ are the lost prince of Nimbus Land. You are Prince Mallow.”

The resultant stupefaction is nearly tangible. And once everyone has the chance to process the words, there comes the inevitable chaos.

“_What_?!” Bowser’s also widen comically before his points a claw down at Mallow, who shares his bewilderment. “You mean to tell me fluffy here’s a _prince_? I thought—” He shakes his head. “Ya gotta be kiddin’ me!”

Toadstool softly gasps and immediately cheers, “Oh Mallow! You’re a prince…! That makes us royalty buddies, _hee hee_!”

You take one glance at Mario, whose blue eyes are hilariously wide still, and the giggles you were trying to keep in erupt in full force. The fact he’s furiously rubbing the sides of his head, mouth hanging open only adds to your laughs.

Surprise aside, Geno turns to you. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say you already knew about this?”

“D-dude,” you snicker, “since the beginning, yeah.”

Clearly disgruntled, the spirit glances down to an also _snrrking_ Shyster. “And judging by your reaction, you were also aware of the situation.”

Shrugging, Shyster remarks, “Guess being close to the local seer has its perks. Who woulda known?”

You roll your eyes in tandem with Geno, though for different reasons, probably.

In the end, even Mallow expresses mild discontentment with you over not saying anything about his heritage, to which you just shrugged and said “figured it wasn’t my place to say.” Which is true, to an extent. Then again, it’s not like you withheld the information out of malice, but rather...obliviousness. Outta sight, outta mind, right?

Garro breaks the lull by crossing his arms worriedly. “But, if you’re the true Prince Mallow, then that means—”

“That giant bird is an imposter,” Bowser cuts the sculptor off. At the varying stares he’s receiving, the koopa king just shrugs and goes, “What? Don’t tell me I was the only one who noticed _that_ Mallow was an overweight—”

Pausing and rubbing his chin, Bowser questions, “Y’know, wasn’t that Valentine lady wearing a parrot on her head? You think she wants a bigger bird so she can get a bigger wig…?”

Okay, that bursts your pseudo-collected facade.

In spite of the dirty looks both Geno and Mario are throwing your way, you manage to halt the roar of laughter before the next plot-related shenanigans ensue.

With a heavy sigh, Garro explains further that he’s suspected something going on with the King and Queen, who haven’t been seen in years. Further adding credulence to the rumors is the fact that the public has been disallowed from entering the palace during that same timeframe. The only person who was the royal family’s spokesperson? Lady Valentina, the royal advisor.

Given his relatively close connections to both the King and Queen, Garro also explains how the giantess came to power.

After arriving to Nimbus Land from the surface, a young Valentina became enamoured with the luxurious and easy-going lifestyle indicative of Nimbians, hence her aspirations to grow close to the royal family. Shortly after becoming their most trusted advisor, little prince Mallow was born.

“Their highnesses grew...paranoid,” Garro states, fidgeting lightly. “I cannot say for certain, but I was informed there were multiple...attempts on the little prince’s life. Fearing for his safety, the King and Queen made a decision: the prince would be safe if he was no longer in Nimbus Land.”

“...that’s how I ended up with Grandpa in Tadpole Pond,” Mallow summarizes.

Nodding, Garro says, “They thought if you grew up on the surface, away from the vicious politics here, you’d be safe.”

“You mean the mainland below?” Geno asks, which Garro confirms. “But that beanstalk wasn’t there when we traversed through Bean Valley…Maybe it’s due to my relatively low rank, but even _I_ didn’t know there was a city hidden above the clouds. To hide things in plain sight...”

The sculptor sighs again. “Magic. Powerful magic could and _has_ done that. Or so it seems.”

Shyster intervenes with a curt, “I think I get it.” Having demonstrated his credibility before, the others hone in on the Shy Guy for his two cents.

Predictably, he delivers. “We’ve already established giants like Valentina are capable of some serious magic; easily enough to do all that stuff. Beyond that, we _also_ saw her little debacle earlier where she clearly established her desires to become the new queen. Coupled with what Garro just told us, it seems like this plan’s been cooking for some time, hence the timeframe. Think about it; she gets close to the royal family, tries to kill Mallow a few times over, and when _that_ fails, she segregates Nimbus Land from the surface to prevent the _real_ prince from returning.”

“The Great Stalk—er, the beanstalk to the surface was severed a few years ago,” Garro inputs. “Roughly around the time the phony prince ‘returned.’ It was also around the time when their highnesses fell ill.”

Shuffling a bit, Shyster admits, “But there’re still some things I don’t get. Like why Valentina would think getting the prince outta the picture would reward her with the crown. Then there’s the fact I don’t know if she even knew Mallow was alive and well on the surface. I guess she had to realize he was gone ‘cause she brought in that bird to be his imposer.”

“Yeah, or what about why Mallow’s parents just ditched him on the surface.” Bowser grumbles a bit under the heated stares of both Mallow and Garro. “What? Why stick around somewhere that’s out to get your kid, ‘specially when you got no idea where the threat’s comin’ from? Seems like leavin’ woulda been a better idea.”

Toadstool hums. “Probably because the King and Queen are loyal to their people as well as their child. If I had to guess, I’d think they did the best they could’ve. After all, they _did_ ensure Mallow grew up safe and sound.”

The Koopa huffs a bit, clearly chastised. “Still, leavin’ no way for your kid to find their way home…”

Mallow hesitantly pats Bowser’s leg before Garro offers his own question. “You know, I do wonder why Lady Valentina brought back a phony prince. Though I suppose she did wait for years to be crowned under the impression Mallow would never return.”

Everyone hums and haws over why Valentina building quite the rapport with the King and Queen would return her with their crown. You shift uncomfortably.

“Oh, I think I get it. Kinda.”

Everyone turns to you and you try not to wilt under the scrutiny. “It’s just...the King and Queen just lost their son, right? Grief makes people do stupid things.”

Shrugging, you look down at your bandana. “She probably thought she could be their surrogate kid, depending on how close and how long she was working for them. I dunno. Trust is an easy thing to give if you’re suffering, ‘specially to anyone who offers to help...least that’s what I think.”

_What I know_ goes unsaid.

The longer the resultant silence lingers, the more you fidget with the hem of your newly bought shorts. Thank goodness Nimbians are roughly the size of humans.

“Well!” Garro abruptly claps, smiling at all of us. “Now that we know the truth, we can uncover Valentina’s plot! Given my position, I’m positive there’s something I can do—”

“We need to sneak into the palace,” Geno states, glancing over at you. “The sooner we can clear up this mess, the better.”

“You need entrance into the castle? _Hmm_…”

Garro’s demeanor changes as he trifles through his equipment. Turning to address your group, brushes in hand, he quips, “Well, I guess being the royal sculptor certainly has its perks! Now, hold still...”

*** * * * * * ***

Least to say, the infiltration to Nimbus Land’s palace did _not_ go according to plan. Not like you _had_ one, but that’s besides the point. The point being—

“_Aaaahhh_—! Hurry, _hurry_!”

Your group sprints through the winding hallways while a group of Valentina’s hired hands chase the lot of you down. As it stands, you hate those stupid Forkies or whatever those doofy-looking guys are; their forks frickin’ _hurt_.

“They’re over here! Get ‘em…!”

A series of very familiar, very scary whistling sounds cracks through the open air. Soon enough Bowser cries out in pain as do you and Mario; those green Shy Guys - Shypers? No wait; Slingers? - pack a mean slingshot. Makes you glad Shyster didn’t wallop you when he still had his.

Mallow ducks under Toadstool’s defensive parasol, crackling energy gathering in his hands. With his trademark green glow, he casts a quick “_Thunderbolt_!” which immediately scatters several of the green Shy Guys.

The prince’s spell bought you enough time to duck outta the central hall into a smaller one. Hurling yourselves behind the massive doors, your group waits with bated breath as a stampede of enemies rush pass. Once the cries of “find the intruders!” and “for Lady Valentina!” disappear further into the castle, you take a moment to look closer at your surroundings.

Same old turquoise bricks, same old golden tapestries. Coupled with the variety of plant life hanging from the various maroon pillars holding up the arched, glass roof, it’s certainly a pretty sight. It’s just that _everything looks the same_.

“_Stars_, not with that again…!”

Whoops. Must’ve complained out loud. Then again, considering how Bowser and Toadstool find themselves agreeing with you, much to both Geno’s and Shyster’s chagrin, you think you’re in the clear.

When Mario shrugs at both Mallow and Geno, the spirit turns to ask you, “So now that the entire security force knows we’ve broken in, what’s the main objective?”

“You mean, like, where to go?” He nods and you bite your lip, thinking. Snapping your fingers, you say, “Pretty sure we’re currently looking for a door guarded by one of those big Parakoopas; y’know, the ones weak to Mario’s jumps? Well, if we’re on the right track, we’ll go through a room where there’s this...giant egg. With pink spots; it’ll hatch into Birdo who we’ll fight and then—”

“Hold up.” Bowser crosses his arms and grumbles, “Do you even know where that is? I’d rather not get stabbed with a fork or pelted with rocks again if I can help it. And I’m gonna hold _you_ accountable for these injuries, sewer boy. If you just took what that overweight bird dished out, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

Mario swipes at Bowser’s finger, offering the Koopa a positively vicious disgruntled expression. The plumber _did_ immediately try to pummel Dodo as soon as the bird pecked him, failing the statue minigame and causing Valentina’s right-hand man to chase all of you down. Luckily the bird’s not that fast, so here you are now.

Geno glances out into the hall before dipping back. “Bowser raises a good point; aside from the fact there’s one of those...Heavy Troopas guarding our next stop, do you recall anything else that’ll lead us there faster?”

“I-I think...um, I think the hall has three doors, with the Heavy Troopa stationed in front of the middle one…?”

Geno hums. “That’s useful enough. Is there anything else of interest here, like any rare items?”

You purse your lips. “There’s...I dunno, a few hidden chests with frog coins scattered about. And flower tabs, but I’m like, 80% sure those aren’t in hidden chests. Ummm...do you—do you wanna know anything else…?”

Shyster scoffs below you. “‘Course there’s loose change hanging around the castle. I say we pilfer ‘em before we restore this place to its rightful owners; more money can’t hurt.”

“_Try_ to contain your inner-thug, you little cretin.”

“Call me that again and see what happens.”

You’re about to retort something when you glance further down the hall and spot one of those blue orb monsters. As soon as it notices you looking at it, the ball between its horns begins to vibrate rapidly, a siren following shortly thereafter.

A few Birdies appear from airways doppled throughout the upper parts of the walls, spears held at the ready. Their beady little eyes hone in on your group before collectively dive bombing you.

Mario thankfully leaps up and stomps down on that blue, magic-resistant staff monster, cutting off the siren. But the damage is done because more Birdies arrive to drive you out of the castle, squawking angrily all the while.

You hear Shyster grunt, “_Duck_…!” before his mace swings over everyone else, cutting through a swath of the flying menaces.

In the resultant poof of smoke as they disappear, he gives the command to “Run!” You don’t need to be told twice as you scamper behind the figures of your allies, hoping your limping won’t slow you down too much. Can’t deny a single night’s rest wasn’t nearly enough time for it to heal properly after Bean Valley.

A high-pitched whine fills the air before a brilliant beam continues Shyster’s plan for a smokescreen.

Arm making a series of sounds you’d associate with a railgun in any FPS game, Geno glances back at you. His voice sounds a bit strained - which is weird because he doesn’t have any lungs? - when he asks, “So what should we expect after we fight Birdo?”

You whip your arm out, summoning a few Storms underneath a group of Shamans gathered on the upper level. “I think everything after that is pretty linear; you’ll see Dodo and Valentina, but you’ll follow Dodo...least I think so. Something about Valentina having the key to the King and Queen’s room. Then...uh—_hyah_!”

Your explanation dips when you hurl a Diamond Saw at the Pinwheel blocking the exit. A Geno Beam follows shortly after, rendering the monster inert and consequently it’s summoned wind goes dead.

Your group quickly leaves that hall. As you catch your breath, Bowser and Mario exchange quick nods before hurrying to shut the massive doors behind you. It’ll stop the land-based enemies for sure, but the Birdies…

“Why would Valentina have the key to the King and Queen’s room?” Mallow asks, eyeing the open hall and the nearby golden statues of said advisor lining it.

“They’re being kept as prisoners,” Shyster answers, much to the other’s surprise. Shrugging, he remarks, “What? Unless I’m wrong, I’m confident that’s why they haven’t been seen much these past years.”

Everyone looks to you. You just make a so-so motion. “Pretty much...oh wait. Yeah; _that’s_ the reason why we beat up Valentina! Forgot about that key last night, _heh_. Whoopsie.”

“You need to get better at this whole ‘seer’ thing, shrimp,” Bowser grumbles before punching his palm. “But hey! Think of all the goods we’ll get for freeing this kingdom from a tyrant, _gwar har har_!”

Both Toadstool and Mallow throw a dirty look at the king, the former even clicking her tongue in annoyance.

You shrug. “Well...I mean, the King and Queen _are_ pretty integral to stopping Smithy after the fact, sooo...you’re not exactly wrong, big guy.”

“Really?” Well, certainly sounds like Geno’s a whole lot more invested in this whole endeavor. “Even though they’ve been trapped in this palace, probably not knowing what’s going on with Smithy attacking the surface?”

“Yup. If I weren’t around lending my perfect, spot-on, totally clear and concise predictions—” Ignoring both Shyster’s and Bowser’s scoffs, you blithely go on. “—they’d be the ones to guide you into the final stretch of the journey, liiike...hinting at where the second to last Star Piece is _and_ providing the means to reach Bowser’s Keep. So. Food for thought.”

Mario rubs his chin thoughtfully while Mallow practically bounces with excitement at his feet. “Wow! My mom and dad sure are helpful!”

“Oh, it certainly runs in the family, then!” Toadstool quips with a giggle, much to Mallow’s bashful grin.

“_Intruders spotted_! This way, hurry!”

“Welp,” you grit, hating how your knee crumples a bit at your wince, “that’s our cue to book it.”

And that’s how you find yourselves running through the winding, twisting halls of the palace for the next half hour. Your magical storage is running low, as are Geno’s and Mallow’s, but you press on. It’s just a shame the more physically-inclined fighters can’t do their thing since you’re on the lam right now.

You spend what feels like almost an hour trying - and failing _miserably_ \- to avoid unnecessary confrontations.

Your group hurries behind a nearby corner, your knee buckling as you do so. Shyster and Geno end up dragging you into their midst, but a few wayward spells of the enemies gunning for you hit their mark. Hissing in pain, Toadstool is quick to heal the blistering, raw skin of your lower back. The warmth of her healing magic makes you feel a little more useless because she should be saving it for when it’s _necessary_, not on a useless gimp like you.

“D-don’t,” you stutter, but the words come too late. Settling for a sigh, you just reiterate, “Both Dodo and Valentina are really strong; save everything for _them_.”

But soon enough Bowser and Mario get too bored with running away, opting to jump out from the safety of the smaller passage to fight the various monsters swarming about. It stings a bit that your advice goes to waste, but a wooden hand on your shoulder and rolling red eyes ease your frayed nerves.

Equal parts shame and gratitude fight for dominance in your mind when Shyster seems more focused on supporting your quivering leg than hurling his mace around. Despite your powerful - unruly, crude but undoubtedly _powerful_ \- magic, your faulty body is still just that: faulty. Nothing can be done to fix your lame joint; Toadstool already tried after the first few days when she noticed.

Which all translates to your group being slowed down by you.

It’s grating to know you’re dragging down everyone else as you stumble through the winding hallways of Nimbus Land’s palace, even more so since they’re unable to truly escape notice because of you.

You attempt to make up for the folly by hurling your spells with abandon as you’ve tended to ever since joining the others. Hopefully they’ll understand the unspoken plea that it’s better for you to let loose because you’re the weakest link.

Johnny’s words flit to mind briefly. Sure, you’re not a link who doesn’t take part in the chain, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t fit enough to support the others.

At the very least, they seem to understand it. Mario keeps his fiery magic to himself, Geno opts for the mechanical bullets his body is filled with, and Mallow hangs back alongside Toadstool’s rather large parasol for protection. You continue casting until sweat beads at your brow.

Because, despite your growing pain and fatigue, you look down at a worried Mallow and remind yourself of that warm, fuzzy feeling his beaming smile drew from you. That sort of raw gratitude...you’d do anything for a sliver of that, again.

To that end, all the strain your spells cause is worth it.

When you can barely mute how rattling your breaths have become, you finally, _finally_ find the stupid hallway containing a triade of doors. As expected, or really how it is in-game and now reality, a trio of Heavy Troopas lazily float before the center door. You’re the first to engage them by hurling several Diamond Saws at them.

A small scuffle later, the Troopas retreat with cracks in their shells and tail between their legs.

“Let’s heal up while we have the chance,” Geno suggests, wiping his shoulder of any lingering debris. He then asks what you know of Birdo: what to expect attack-wise and spell-wise, what to avoid and how, so on and so forth. You supply what you can.

When he then asks if there will be a time to relax after this upcoming fight, you pause.

“U-uh...I—” You wince a bit and hope your pained flinch goes unnoticed, or at least mistaken for your usual anxiety. “If, if I’m remembering this right, as soon as we leave this room, we’ll notice Dodo and Valentina, chase them - or something; she has the key to unlocking the King and Queen - and then—”

Your words falter, feeling like you’re forgetting something. Biting your lip, you admit, “There’s—there’s something else, lu-like a catalyst, but I can’t...um.”

“Long story short, we need that key from Valentina,” Shyster, ever the saviour, pipes up. You nod thankfully.

“R-right. Uhhh...the next part of the chase is...hmm.” You trail off, unsure of how to describe and get everyone else to accept they’ll be falling through the clouds before, eventually, fighting Valentina and Dodo. “Okay, so, I’m absolutely gonna sound mad, but hear me out: after finding and chasing Dodo down this long, narrow, and straight hallway, he’ll lead you out of a door aaand. Uh, the door leads to nowhere…? Like, it’s the palace’s backduh—backdoor, so…”

“Leads to nowhere? What does that mean?” Mallow asks, to which Mario and Toadstool nod in confusion.

Clapping your hands together and kinda wishing the floor would just swallow you up, you bluntly state, “The door leads to the open air, to which we’ll fall several hundred feet or so, eventually land on some clouds, travel through a few more layers of clouds via conveniently placed springs, before finally getting back up to Nimbus Land where we’ll proceed to fight Valentina and Dodo. There’s also a pretty big confrontation, but that’s whatever.”

It takes a minute or two for it to finally sink in. Geno is the first to voice his concerns.

“You want us to knowingly fall _out_ of Nimbus Land,” he starts, brow raised, “even knowing that, in order to free the proper King and Queen to reunite them with Mallow, we need Valentina’s key...when she’ll still be _here_, in Nimbus Land.”

“...pretty much, yup.”

“I’m all for it.”

Everyone pauses to stare down at the innocuous figure of Shyster. He huffs a bit, further explaining, “And not just ‘cause I’m buddy-buddy with them or whatever you’re probably thinking. The point is, if we do as they suggest, then that baits Valentina and Dodo into believing the ‘problem’ - aka _us_ \- is taken care of. Y’know, lull them into a false state of security. Then we find our way back up to Nimbus Land—”

“And we confront them!” Toadstool interjects, much to the ire of Shyster who throws a narrowed stare in her direction.

Geno nods once, thumbing his chin. “Yes, but how do we guarantee we don’t just...repeat this whole chasing sequence? What’s going to change that we’ll be able to immediately challenge Valentina?”

Shyster grunts. “Lemme guess: she’ll be making some other announcement in the town square like she did this morning.”

Man, you just wanna hug the poor bastard to death for being so awesome while also having an immense desire to never tell him anything ever again. You swear the little dude is going to unravel all your secrets before you can solve them all yourself at this rate. “Yeah, pretty much,” you relent.

“So are we done here or what?” Bowser grumbles, crossing his arms.

No one makes a peep in response, and no other random soldiers and scouts arrive to give you hell. The Koopa king makes a noise between a sigh and a scoff before settling for, “Then let’s get going! My muscles could use a warm-up!”

And like that, he shoves the heavy wooden door apart, revealing the room with an enormous white egg, speckled with bright pink spatter.

Despite not having seen any lingering soldiers in the hall, the doors shut behind your group. An ominous click later, you’re certain you’re now locked into the room. _Talk about scripted boss fights_…

Geno exhales, scratching his hat in confusion. “...is this Birdo?”

“_Tee hee_…! _You already know my name_? _How sweet of you_!”

Everyone, including yourself, jumps at the peppy voice echoing about the lavish room. Despite how Toadstool and Mario’s heads whip around to spot the origin of the voice, you immediately hone in on the egg. _Shelly, or was it Eggbert_…?

“Are...are you inside the egg?” Mallow asks, to which her tittering voice giggles.

“_Yes I am_! _I haven’t hatched yet, and it’s been sooo lonely here_…”

You exchange glances with both Geno and Bowser, the latter of whom loses his fighting posture. If Birdo hasn’t hatched yet, then that means she doesn’t know much of the coup your group is currently attempting. Maybe if you play your cards right, you can breeze past her and delve further into the castle without a fight. Considering your condition, it’s the best hope you have if you want to last this plot point out.

Just as Mallow’s in the process of apologizing and saying you all have somewhere to be, Birdo’s echoey voice rings out again.

“_You’re leaving so soon_…? _Won’t you play with me just a little longer_?”

Well, her crestfallen tone makes the guilt stab just a bit deeper. Gambling, you intrude, “We’re, um, kinda busy right now. B-but after we’re done, you’ll probably have lots of others to play with!” _Because the palace will once again be open to the public and therefore thrumming with life, which you suspect she’ll become a part of_, but you don’t mention those things.

You hate how easy it is to guilt-trip you, given how you’re tempted to just stay put after Birdo sighs ruefully.

And suddenly you arrive at a potential solution for all parties involved. Maybe you can stay behind to “play,” which hopefully doesn’t translate to “fight” with Birdo, and everyone else and move on with the plans to chase Valentina out of the palace. You’re running low on magic and general stamina, coupled with the fact no one ever restocked the supply of Honey Syrups…

However, before you can slyly interject your new plan, Birdo speaks up again.

“_You mean it_? _No one likes to play with me...but they will later_? _You promise_?”

You loathe promises and can’t bring yourself to agree, no matter how much you believe it to be true. And you suppose your hesitation is enough evidence to prosecute you, at least to Birdo.

“_See_? _No one wants to play with me, not even you_! _If you won’t stay with me, then I’ll make you_!”

Welp. That didn’t go very well. At least you tried.

You brace when sharp _cracks_ ring through the air, accompanied by the violent teetering of the egg. Like you sort of expect, the ivory shell practically explodes, raining glass-like shards onto your party. Luckily, everyone else seemed to realize the warning signs so only you and Geno get neat slices along your forearms; _your_ injuries bleed.

And in the wreckage of the egg stands none other than Birdo.

The dinosaur’s dolled-up eyes scan the room with wonder, probably taking everything in for the first time. Then her sights inevitably fall onto your group. She sways from side to side, gripping a pure white egg like she does in-game and stares, stares, stares.

You’re sort of glad she doesn’t look angry in the slightest; she just looks awed.

Birdo’s snout expands and retracts as she says, “Oh...I see. Well, now that I know how _cute_ you all are, there’s just no _way_ I’m letting you go! Here; a gift from me to you...!”

And she promptly spits - shoots? Whatever; her head’s basically a bazooka - a volley of eggs at everyone. They streak through the open air, an ivory blur against the turquoise and maroon backdrop.

The next thing you know is that your gut forlornly pangs with pain and the vaulted glass ceiling is very pretty.

“Oof; that looked rough,” Shyster quips above you, but there’s a tenseness to his voice. Sounds of a skirmish echo about the room as he helps you back to your feet. “I’m surprised you managed to keep your breakfast down.”

“Didn’t eat one,” you grit out, ignoring the glare he subsequently hurls your way. Your world tilts a bit as you stagger back, but your hands glow blue with magic.

You release the energy thrumming through you as a Storm beneath Birdo. Even after the spell hammers into her, she refuses to leave the bottom part of her egg, shooting from its confines. At least she’s still stationary like she is in-game; makes things easier for you and Mallow.

You’re so tired your vision begins to dip in and out of focus. You shake your head; this is practically _your_ fault so _you_ need to make up for your mistake.

Your hurl your spells and remaining vestiges of magic at Birdo, uncaring that the last Diamond Saw resulted in your head immediately throbbing and vision swimming. You’ve barely any magic left, but you need to carry the others so they’ll be in prime shape when you face down Valentina _and_ Dodo.

Thankfully, the others are still keen on storing their magic for the upcoming fight. Mario sticks to punching or hammering, Toadstool has her parasol, Bowser is Bowser, and Geno is guns. Mallow ends up casting a few spells here and there, evidenced by the sharp crackles of electricity, but you don’t hear those too often so it’s probably fine.

Hating how dry your mouth feels, you gather what scraps remain of your magic and call on your strongest spell. An opening presents itself and you cast Water Blast.

Birdo makes a pained sound and you can feel the heat from the explosions where you are, but that’s all you’re able to glean before your vision briefly blacks out entirely.

You barely manage to catch yourself before collapsing, back using a nearby pillar as leverage. Shaking your head to disperse the static coagulating there, you push yourself away from the cool stone.

Despite how shaky your legs are you manage to stay upright. With your vision spinning as much as it is, you doubt you can get away with another Water Blast or Diamond Saw without risking potentially hitting your teammates...Storm would be easiest to control the area of. Storm it is, then.

Gathering your magic, you aim at where Birdo’s currently shooting eggs at Mario before—

—the distinct sound of twinkling bells ring out, accompanied by the space around you distorting even more than your already mussed up vision.

The turbulence of your magic dissipates, your spell likewise vanishing.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?!” Shyster hisses as soon as he stumbles into your twisting view. “You think I haven’t noticed how you’re practically running on fumes?”

Hating how loud his voice is in your head, you counter, “If I don’t pick up the slack, then—”

“You’ll be even more of a target later on!” he retorts, taking the moment to glance at the battle field. “Valentina already knows you’re the seer, and if you can’t defend yourself ‘cause you’re outta magic, it’ll be like Yaridovich all over again!”

“I-I can handle myself; just trust me—”

Shyster flings his arms up, seething, “You can barely look at me straight! Magic exhaustion is no joke, and since _you_ don’t seem to get that, _I_ decided for you. Sorry, but you’re sitting this one out.”

And just like that Shyster renters the fray, swinging his mace right into Birdo’s kisser. Knowing how she operates, that’s probably literal.

Sighing because there’s _also_ literally nothing you can do to help - dumb body and no magic equals a useless mage - you lean back against the wall. You also take a moment to remove your bag and leave it behind the pillar, since you forgot to earlier as you normally do with battles.

The fight rages on and being as far away from it as you are, you don’t have to strain your already failing knee further by dodging. Seconds drag on into minutes and the headache gradually becomes less painful. Your vision stops swirling.

Which is pretty swell when Birdo’s perky voice chimes, “Oh… you’re hurting me…!” And true to form, the pink dinosaur _does_ look worse for wear.

And it’s at that precise moment when you can hear faint humming.

No one seems to notice as they’re still hammering away at Birdo with gusto, so you’re left sitting like a lump on a stump when you watch a Shy Away enter through another of those aerial passageways. The fact he’s carrying a metallic watering can as opposed to a bidet like the other, patrolling Shy Aways are, you realize it’s probably the same one from Megasmilax.

His distinctly pinkish robes blend in well with the maroon pillars and walls. And judging by the fact no one, not even Shyster, realizes he’s hovering above a beaten-looking Birdo, you bet that convenient camouflage is working.

And then you realize what you’ve been forgetting. That nagging empty space in the back of your mind like a missing puzzle piece has finally slid into place: the catalyst for everything beyond this point is the Shy Away.

It’s _him_ who warns Valentina of your intrusion. And if his role as a healer has remained since the debacle with Megasmilax, then the fact of the matter is he can also impede your progress further by healing Birdo.

A quick glance over your allies shows that running through the palace’s hallways has taken a toll. If the Shy Away were to make your coup even more difficult, coupled with the fact you’re running low on healing items with the potential of resuming the chase after Birdo...there’s the chance you won’t have any stamina left to challenge Valentina.

But if the Shy Away is taken out of the picture prematurely, then there’s the slight, _slight_ chance you can skip over the latter half of the Nimbus Land dungeon and just beat the crap out of Valentina, when everyone else’s stamina is still okay. And if you can help your allies in any way that you possibly can—

The decision makes itself for you.

The Shy Away begins to tip his magical watering can and Birdo is _not_ supposed to have a second phase.

Uncaring for the burning pain that lances through your knee, you sprint forward and call your magic. Thankfully, Shyster’s spell has worn off and your magic is already coalescing beneath your pounding feet.

The blinding light of a Storm fills your vision and propels you off the carpet.

Your lingering excitement and anxiety must’ve made your spell a bit unruly, because you’re flying through the air faster _and_ higher than you wanted.

The Shy Away’s gentle humming and musings abruptly cut off into a gasp as you slam into him. You also hear the faint cries of surprise coming from the others below, but their words cannot be deciphered with the wind rushing through your ears.

As you would with Shyster, the Shy Away’s small body fits against yours as you press him against your torso. The two of you careen through the air until a pained breath is torn from you when you slam into the upper part of the wall; more specifically, into one of those airway’s openings.

Conveniently, your lack of magic comes back full force.

Your vision begins to violently swirl as you lay stunned inside the opening of the passageway. An incessant buzzing - probably the Shy Away’s wings, in retrospect - fills your head and causes another rampant headache. His stuttering voice furthers your pain, and you shift to rub at your temples...but instead feel your body begin to tilt forward, sliding deeper into the vent.

It’s unlit and dark and your dizzy vision can’t make out up from down as you try to grab anything for purchase, but your fingers only grab air and—

—you fall headfirst into the passage.

You’re not entirely sure if your eyes are open or closed, because you see nothing but darkness. With the wind rushing past you and fluttering under your garments, it’s almost a nice feeling, falling like this. Calm.

The Shy Away’s voice seems far away when he yelps in pain. You realize why when your body glances off the inner wall of the airway. Too tired to do anything but abide by your instinct, you curl around the Shy Away protectively.

These passageways seem a lot like pipes which ratchets up your anxiety. Even though you feel like you’re falling down, you can also feel yourself dragged in different directions. You think you even hear a platoon of Birdies flit through a nearby vent.

You gain several scrapes and bruises from smacking into the inner walls, but you’re too tired to bother righting yourself.

Suddenly you crash through what feels like rotting planks of wood. You hiss in pain and clutch the Shy Away closer, ignoring his fearful blabbering about something “forbidden.”

Your descent continues to slow when a myriad of sharp, pliant objects begins to whip you as you fall. _Vines, maybe_…? You’re not too sure, but they sting to high hell. Judging by the warmth seeping out of your arms and legs, you’re pretty sure you’re sliced to high hell and back, too.

Peeking open your eyes - when did you close them? - you’re surprised to see faint rays of light. They’re filtering through small cracks in the bricks and you—you’re falling headfirst. The ground is so, so close.

You barely have the time to right your orientation and shove the Shy Away from you - elastic forces - before you crash into the unforgiving stones below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Here, have an update!
> 
> So _this_ is the chapter where that last tag is gonna come into play. Creative liberty, baby! On a side-note, my adoration for _Laputa: Castle in the Sky_ and _Spirited Away_ is showing, lol.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	17. Beneath the Benthic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader makes a new sorta-friend and then gets ganged up on. Also beans.

You startle with a gasp.

Rapidly blinking away the fatigue, heart hammering away in your chest, you try to see your surroundings but all you can make out are shadows upon shadows and you’re wet—

“O-oh, please calm down…!”

The high-pitched voice calms you, if only slightly. Squinting, you can barely see the silhouette of the Shy Away and his trusty watering...can…

Before you can question what, exactly, is happening, the flying Shy Guy does. “I’m sorry about getting your clothes wet, b-but you’re okay now! I mean, your head isn’t leaking any more…”

A cursory check later proves that yes, the back of your skull is stained with semi-wet blood. Great. But further poking and prodding also tells you the wound has been completely closed. Man, what is with you and cracking your head open? First with Culex, and now this?

Rubbing your head and thanking the Shy Away, you tweak your neck around but the soft light filtering in from above doesn’t reach the floor all too much. You’re basically left in the dark in some unknown, dank place. _Is this still on Nimbus Land_…?

“Y-yes,” the Shy Away answers and you startle. You need to learn to keep some of your thoughts to yourself. “But we’re not supposed to be here…! Lady Valentina forbid us from the palace’s basement!”

You can’t really quell the stress seeping out of every pore, but you take a moment to go through a quick run-down of your predicament. Let’s see here...currently in the dark basement of the castle which you didn’t even know _existed_, the only known way out is via some maze-like passageways which you can’t access because you can’t _fly_, aaand you’re stuck with the Shy Away who’s...who’s flying off—

“W-wait, _please_!” you cry before you have the chance to process it. “Don’t go…! I—I…!”

It’s so dark you can’t see anything and it’s cold _and you don’t want to be alone_—

Your distress must’ve been heavily apparent, because he stills before buzzing back; close enough to quell your hammering heart. Even so, you struggle to catch your breath for a little bit.

“Umm...are you…” he begins, voice soft, “are you alright…?”

You settle for nodding, not trusting your voice.

“Are you...perhaps afraid of the dark…?”

You purse your lips. After a moment you silently nod, to which the Shy Away heaves a sigh of...relief? “Oh. That’s—well, I suppose I’m glad I’m not the only one. And my pretties can’t live in the dark, either…”

He’s probably talking about his plants, but you opt for silence, thinking about...well, thinking about what you’re supposed to do now. You’re stuck in a place that’s extremely unfamiliar, and it’s enough to already distress you _this_ much...

But hey! Bright side is that your injuries are fully healed, thanks to the magical concoction in the Shy Away’s watering can. If anything, you’re a bit sore. And your clothes are still wet, but that’ll be taken care of in time.

Before long, the subconscious guilt eats away at you. Fiddling with your bandana, you say, “Can...can I ask something?”

The Shy Away stops fiddling with his watering can, metallic sounds ceasing. “Hmm…? Oh, sure.”

“Why...why’d you bother with me?”

You can practically hear his confusion in the following silence so you continue. “I mean—it’s my fault you’re down here, a-and I didn’t mean to, but—but you healed me from…” _Probably bleeding out_, but it sounds like he doesn’t know how humans operate.

Hating how fatigued tears begin to gather, you reiterate, “Why’d you bother with me when this is all my fault…?”

Nothing but the gentle buzzing of the Shy Away’s wings.

“Well...I guess it’s because you were nice enough to me. You also threw me away before you landed...and if you didn’t then I’d have died, most likely...so I guess me healing you is to return the favor.”

Try as you might, your tongue refuses to still. “Is that really enough…? If I didn’t—you wouldn’t even have been in any danger if it wasn’t for me in the first place, so why…?”

The Shy Away hums. “Maybe you could say it’s for similar reasons why you decided to protect me instead of hurt me like you tried to before, with my pretties—my plants. A shame, really...they were so big…”

Now you’re the one who’s confused. “That...sorry, but I don’t—that doesn’t make any sense.”

Faintly, you can make out the Shy Away tapping his chin. “You know...I think you and I are alike. Hmm...you see, I don’t take to fighting or violence...which is why I tend to shy away from battles and let my pretties do all the work for me. And you don’t seem to like fighting, either...at least, from what others have said about the seer…”

You pause, retort dying in your throat. You realize he’s right; you’ve never really _enjoyed_ fighting, more or less just...participating in it because it’s _expected_ of you, especially now as a self-insert. There was a reason you avoided those sorts of things in the beginning, that being you’re a coward at heart.

But...Johnny…

Thumbing the worn fabric around your neck, you shrug. “I-I guess so. I just want to be useful; that’s all.”

“Hmm...that’s exactly my predicament.” You perk up and listen raptly as the Shy Away continues. “I used to be the royal gardener...oh wait; I suppose I still am...but Lady Valentina threatened all us servants and I...I’d rather not spend the rest of my life in the dungeons, away from my pretties, alone in the dark…so—”

His watering can rattles. “—I’m being useful, despite my reservations.”

In spite of the little guy just pouring his heart out to you, the first words out of your mouth are: “She sounds like a bitch.”

The Shy Away sputters. “I-I…! O-oh my, how crude…!”

Like all other specimens of the Shy Guys, he’s absolutely adorable and therefore, his antics pull a stunted laugh from you. And despite his continued protests over the viability of your statement, your shame seems to dissipate into the dank air.

Clapping your hands, you say, “Okay, so since I feel like I’m in your debt, how’s about we strike a deal! Since we don’t know where we are, much less how to get outta here...actually, I had no idea where I was going with that. But…! It sounds like you’re not too keen on being alone down here.”

“N-no,” the Shy Away agrees, “not really. I...I really don’t like the dark.”

“Perfect! Er, that’s—I mean, y’know…” Coughing awkwardly, you explain, “You don’t like the dark and I don’t like being alone, so why not stick together for the time being, yeah? I-I have an idea for what to do about the darkness, ah-and you restored my magic reserves, so I’m pretty sure I could protect you too! Um, _if_ we run into any trouble.”

Sorta glad the darkness hides your embarrassed flush, you say, “So, uh, truce…?”

The Shy Away hums thoughtfully. “O-oh…! Um, okay. I have other duties to attend to in the castle, after all…”

You heave a sigh of relief; if you had to go through this unknown part of the palace, in utter darkness and completely alone...well. You’re pretty sure your sanity wouldn’t be in one piece _if_ you managed to find your way back.

“Okay,” you say more to yourself than the Shy Away, “here goes nothing.”

Hesitantly, you call upon your normally turbulent magic. Like Johnny taught you, magic has a distinct footprint associated with its wielder, often times mimicking their core or their truest self. The fact your magic is so strong is likely due to the fact your magic is...unwieldy, like a raging river after the winter season. So summoning it for offense is easy enough, but minimizing it for what you want right now is another thing entirely.

Tongue peeking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration, you will your magic to gather in your hands like it would if you were forming Diamond Saws. Before the crude buzzsaws can form, you try to maintain it just so...aaand…

“Bingo!” You grin, satisfied by the thrumming blue light emanating from your palms. “Now that I’ve achieved becoming a living night-light, let’s get going!”

You see - actually _see_ \- the Shy Away nod in tandem, and the two of you set off. _Escort mission, away_!

*** * * * * * ***

Turns out the reason why Valentina blockaded the palace’s basement is because of what’s hidden here.

“Oh...here are more beanlings for a Great Stalk,” the Shy Away observes, fluttering about rows of vases filled with soil and sprouting shriveled-looking buds. “Oh my...none of them are alive. They need ample sunlight in addition to soil from the surface…_tsk tsk_, what a waste…”

Turns out your little fairy companion is rather invested in analyzing every last plant in the basement. And true to form, he’s taken to explaining the properties of whatever you manage to stumble upon. The basement’s just like the central palace, what with its twisting and turning hallways.

“So Valentina _really_ doesn’t want Nimbus Land connected to the surface,” you surmise, taking in mess of dirt and scattered beans.

“A shame, really.” The Shy Away flits to another torn sack where even more beans disperse from. “Most of our produce originates from the surface, and without a Great Stalk we run the risk of losing crops...too similar to stand against a plague, unfortunately…”

You nod along. “Genetic diversity, right. Monocultures aren’t exactly...sustainable in the long run.”

“Right you are. But Lady Valentina doesn’t listen to me...all she cares about is ruling Nimbus Land. _Doo dee doo_…”

If there’s one thing you can appreciate, it’s the scientific mind of the Shy Away. Again, his knowledge just goes to show even the most innocuous of NPCs in the game can have a depth you wouldn’t be able to fathom unless you were here like you are now. That and you’d still be hopped up on how stinkin’ _cute_ any and all Shy Guys are, but details.

The two of you continue trekking through the castle’s underbelly, your glowing hands lighting the way. In return, the Shy Away has taken to scouting ahead and above, looking for a way to return above ground. Being rather afraid of the dark, he doesn’t ever stray too far in his search.

Despite being trapped in a maze where light doesn’t seem to reach save for snippets here and there, it’s actually...sorta peaceful. Sure, you’re not really a fan of the dark either, but having a companion makes everything seem more surmountable.

Your gentle blue light dims and reignites, much like a tide ebbs and flows, bathing the basement in similar hues. Least to say, much like the central palace above, the basement is filled with intricate tapestries, glossy tiles, and arches upon arches of marble. The fact forgotten plants swamp throughout the twisting hallways, snaking up every available surface only adds to the subtle beauty. If anything, it’s distinctly reminiscent of one of the backgrounds in _Yoshi’s Island_. Heck, if you look hard enough, the dim rays of light even peek through windows not covered by vines or leaves.

You’re discussing the history of Nimbus Land with the Shy Away when he dips into another room. But his voice falls quiet and intrigued, you follow the gentle hum of his insect-like wings.

“Is...is that a stairway I see? Only one way to find out, I suppose…” The Shy Away begins humming again and you follow.

True to this word, a hidden archway rests behind two large vases with equally obscuring trees. Brushing past their leaves shows that, yes, there’s a series of cobbled stones leading upward.

You end up tripping on a few steps, much to your ire and the Shy Away’s worry, but you eventually clamor through another tapestry and into...another floor where the light don’t shine. Great.

“Welp...time to explore some more, I guess.”

Unlike the previous floor rife with plants, this floor seems to be overflowing with both plants _and_ treasure. Various floating chests fill a few otherwise empty rooms; you end up pocketing several frog coins into your sock because your bag is, unfortunately, still in Birdo’s room. Probably; maybe the others took it with them after they finished up? Surely they knew not to go looking for you when there’s far more important things at stake…

You delve into more rooms filled with nothing but rampant vines, chests, and the odd bookshelf or two. As much as you’d love to just immerse yourself in the apparently rich history of Nimbus Land, you don’t have the time. Besides, your handy dandy fairy companion seems knowledgeable enough.

“—ah, right; I suppose I don’t...completely agree with Lady Valentina’s whims,” the Shy Away says. “Most of all, we of Nimbus Land are _supposed_ to be connected to the surface. After all, this land has enough magic in its people and artifacts to protect both well enough...perhaps that is why Lady Valentina’s wishes to control Nimbus Land…”

You click your tongue, peeking into another room. “So you’re saying Nimbus Land was built as a means of surveying over the world or something?”

“I...I wouldn’t say that, but records show a union between us and the surface...ah, now that I mention it, I believe there was mention of our land being the origin of magic…? Something to do with the proximity to the fabled Star Road...but that was long, long ago.”

Oh boy, do you love some lore. You hum thoughtfully before observing, “But the surface doesn’t even know Nimbus Land exists.”

The Shy Away fidgets, filling the silence with the metallic _clinking_ of his watering can. “Ah, yes...I find it odd; some of us come down to the surface to do Lady Valentina’s bidding, like myself...o-oh, but there’s that cliff...and many surface-dwellers can’t fly…and the time of our initial union was so long ago...”

“Oh, I think I getcha.” You explain how the area before Bean Valley is called Land’s End, which is fitting because not many can go further. Luckily for you, there was a platoon of Parakoopas ready and willing to help.

The two of you go back and forth on the issue, discussing where the possibility of a divergence occurred, since the surface didn’t know of Nimbus Land before the Great Stalk was severed. In the end, you have no idea a powerful, magical civilization just...vanished out of sight.

You eventually begin talking about more sciencey, horticulture-esque things because the Shy Away found some extremely rare beans. “Oh my…! What a waste; these Hoo Beans are endemic to the Beanbean Kingdom…! And they’ve been left to stagnation here...don’t worry my pretties; I’ll take care of you…” Allusions to _Superstar Saga_, huh…?

The two of you turn around a corner only to immediately halt when you hear something further into the darkness.

“Get behind me,” you say, voice a lot calmer than you feel. The Shy Away obeys, softly buzzing over your shoulder.

You wait...nothing.

Slowly, you inch your way down the hallway and discover more chests; the key difference is that they’ve already been plummaged. So there’s definitely someone else down here with you.

The sounds of the other trespasser grow louder and louder until you’re basically upon them. Unbidden, you motion for the Shy Away to grab a hold of your shoulder. Once you can feel his hand, you shut off your magic. The darkness is quick to claim you, but now the other person won’t know your approach.

You listen raptly until they begin to angrily mutter to themself, finishing with something decidedly familiar yet not.

Edged on by anxiety and the bravery that comes with having someone else sharing your misery, you sprint forward, magic at the ready in your palms—and promptly trip.

A strangled yelp escapes as you tumble to the floor, landing on something smaller and, dare you say, plusher. That something also hurls a curse or two at you, but you collapse back onto them after a failed attempt to get back onto your feet; your knee is _well_ beyond its piddly limit.

“_Argh_! Get off me, you overgrown buffoon!”

Okay, that distinct watery-sounding voice is most _definitely_ familiar-ish.

Clawing at the floor and using a nearby pillar, you clamor back onto shaky legs. Using your magic to be a night-light again, you see another Shy Guy dusting their robe off. Strangely, they’re carding around a worn, partially filled sack.

“Oh my…” the Shy Away breathes, still hovering near you. “A Sling Shy...were you thrown into the dungeons?”

The Sling Shy turns to you, eyeing the Shy Away. Hanging around Shyster has given you a headstart in reading their body language, because this particular Shy Guy is _pissed_.

“Yeah, and…?” They scoff, crossing their arms. “Aren’t you the Shy Away always at that woman’s beck and call? Did she finally tire of you or what?”

The Shy Away hides behind you. “Ah, no...they brought me down here...against my will.”

“You mean clumsy there?” The Sling Shy gives you a once-over. “...what’s a human doing all the way up here? Last I checked, we lost contact with the surface years ago.”

“They came with many others from the surface,” the Shy Away explains. “They plan to rid Nimbus Land of Lady Valentina’s influence, I believe.”

“What? Really? And you’re helping them after licking her heels all this time?”

The Shy Away makes a hurt sound. “Oh my...he’s a crude one…”

Having drained a good portion of your magic by lighting the dark underbelly of the castle, your patience is running thin. Or maybe it’s because this particular Sling Shy’s attitude reminds you of Shyster, but you’re finding your thoughts to be on the short side. Cutting to the chase it is, then.

“Are you lost?” you ask, to which the Sling Shy hunches in on himself.

“I-I…! That’s none of your business!”

The Shy Away hums next to your ear. “Well...if it helps, we’re looking for a way back to the upper floors.”

The Sling Shy stands at attention and presumably eyes the two of you. “Really? I’ve been stuck down here for days and I haven’t found anything. Then again, I bet it’d be a _lot_ easier if I had a light to actually see where I’m going…”

“You could join us—” the Shy Away suggests at the same moment the Sling Shy smacks his chest once, nodding as he says, “I guess I’ll be going with you guys for now.”

You snort, unable to help yourself.

“What?!” The Sling Shy bristles, hands tucking his burlap sack against his belt. “We’re all in the same boat, and my chances are better if I throw in my lot with you!”

“I know, I know, it’s just…” You shrug, able to stop yourself from commenting on how _cute_ Shy Guys are. “I dunno, you’re the second Shy Guy I know who has an attitude. ‘S kinda cute.” Welp, that restraint lasted for about two seconds.

“_C-c-cute_?” both the Sling Shy and Shy Away exclaim and you sorta wish that landing actually killed you.

With the Shy Away bashfully rejecting that he is cute and the Sling Shy admitting you “must be good company” now, the three of you head off to further plunge the depths of Nimbus Land’s palace.

*** * * * * * ***

The Sling Shy has taken to rummaging through his sack and even pestering the Shy Away for beans, since he hasn’t eaten in “who knows how long.” Considering how often his stomach has gurgled loud enough to drown out your quiet musings, well, you figure his complaints are justified.

“_Eurgh_...these things are gross raw, but it’s the only stuff I’ve been able to find down here,” the Sling Shy says, wiping a hand off on his robe.

The Shy Away hands a few more beans to the Sling Shy before asking, “If I may...how did you wind up in the basement? I believe the dungeons were hidden within the upper floors…”

The Sling Shy huffs a bit. “Valentina threw me down here ‘cause she said I wasn’t doing a good enough job.” Throwing his hands up, he says, “And here I was thinking I finally made it big by being close to the royal advisor, but no! Instead, she’s just some megalomaniac too obsessed with herself to see results!”

“‘Results?’” you and the Shy Away echo, peeking into another abandoned room. Nothing of interest.

“Yeah! If I weren’t for _me_, she wouldn’t even know about the seer from the surface! I even warned her about them having lots of potential or whatever - the Shy Ranger wasn't that specific - but she wouldn’t listen!”

You nearly trip and your magic flickers. “Ex—um, _what_? Excuse me…?” _He was in contact with that Shy Ranger_…?!

The Shy Away gasps softly. “Oh my…”

The Sling Shy looks up at you. “What?”

Gently tapping your shoulder, the Shy Away answers, “Umm...they’re the seer from the surface.”

After looking you up and down, the Sling Shy quips, “Really? You don’t look like much, but if you managed to reach Nimbus Land then you’ve gotta know what you’re doing. Hopefully we’ll be able to get out of this place soon, then.”

“Woah woah _woah_; wait a sec.” You hold up your hands, hating how your magic keeps flickering with your surprise. “You—hold on, y-you mean you—I mean, there was a Shy Ranger who saved me in the sewers before...is, is that the one you spoke with? And what did they say ah-about me…?”

“Why’d you stop? C’mon; the sooner we leave this place the sooner I can fill my belly!” The Sling Shy walks ahead and you soon follow. Thankfully, he answers your questions.

“Well, let’s see...I’m a part of a huge information network which spans most of the surface; it’s why Valentina brought me to the big leagues in the first place. The Shy Ranger was tailing the local heroes because one of them was a Nimbian, and that’s the sort of thing that would interest Valentina. But then he also heard one of them talking about some seer who was supposed to help them save the world or whatever; said the seer was made strong enough to do so but needed guidance.”

‘_Made_?’ The Sling Shy sighs like he didn’t just turn your world upside down. _Geno knew all along about you having magic_…?

Then...before, when he said he could “help you”—

That—he _wasn’t_ talking about—?

Eying you again, the Sling Shy interrupts your thoughts by saying, “Anyways, the Shy Ranger saved you once, right? He mentioned you had potential but didn’t say much else about you. Well, other than warning me that you planned on coming up here with the real prince after you joined the heroes.”

He finishes by angrily complaining, “And that woman didn’t believe me when I passed on the word! Then she threw me down here thinking I was lying…!”

Honestly, you’re not even that upset he tried to sell you out. Then again, Croco already did that before, hence your abduction by the pirates which turned into a blessing in disguise, so no complaints there. Now, if what the locals have been saying about Valentina turns out to be true, well...who knows? Maybe fighting her won’t be too bad.

You feel your face pucker a bit when you remember how she tends to favor ice magic. You...forgot to tell them about that, didn’t you…

Shrugging off your lingering anxiety and hoping you’ll find your way back into the central castle, you continue trekking through the maze-like halls.

A small hand pats your shoulder. “Um...are you okay…?”

You hear the words through your pounding heartbeat but it takes a moment for them to register. Slapping on a worn grin instead of whatever tenseness your face was doing, you go, “Yeah, it’s—okay, maybe it’s not fine, b-but don’t worry about it. Gotta...gotta get outta here first.”

You and the Shy Away pause when the Sling Shy darts into another room. Once the telltale sounds of rummaging echo throughout the darkness, the Shy Away quietly muses, “You know, it’s difficult to earn a Shy Guy’s loyalty. Most of us do not take to people so easily.”

“...uh-huh…?”

“It’s...strange how that one Shy Guy has decided to not only travel alongside a human, but with so many others…? I think it’d be overwhelming, but...hm. He does seem quite fond of you.”

You make a strange sound between a laugh and snort. “Oh, yeah, I like to think we’re best buds, b-but, y’know...I kinda think he sticks around also ‘cause he saw me get stabbed. So, uh. He’s kind of a worrywart, _heh_.”

“O-oh. That’s…” The Shy Away shudders. “You...you don’t seem too worried about dying.”

You snort a bit before realizing that’s probably an off-putting response. Gallows humor is still humor, though.

You’re about to retort when the Sling Shy saunters out of the room, carding around what looks like a scepter of some sort. Hold on; it looks _pretty_ familiar. Could it be one of those—?

“Check this out!” The Sling Shy holds up the relatively simple staff, topped with nothing but a gem-like handle. Nodding his head, he explains, “I can’t believe this was just sitting around in the castle’s basement. If I weren’t so low on magic, I’d power this thing up and use it myself since it’s clearly going to waste.”

The Shy Away thankfully asks, “Um, what is that…?”

With a flourish, the Sling Shy twirls the staff a bit. “_This_ is a magical artifact that was supposedly owned by a king in some far off land, but there’s tons of fakes. Still, I can feel this thing’s potential for being a good conduit for my magic.”

_Ha_! You knew it; thing looks like it came straight out of _Super Mario Bros 3_.

“Aren’t...are you not a Sling Shy?” The Shy Away buzzes softly behind you. “I thought you prefer your slingshots over your magic…”

The Sling Shy _psshes_. “My aim is terrible with those crude weapons, but this should make my life easier. And I’ll even stick out more; talk about a potential promotion!”

You roll your eyes. “I thought you had it out for Valentina?”

He scoffs in turn. “Like I’m gonna stay on Nimbus Land with that witch! Especially not when the king and queen resume their rule and I’ll be relegated to being just another peon. Now the surface...there’s bound to be opportunities for me to stand out down there!”

Before you can continue looking for a way out, the Sling Shy shoves the scepter at you. “Speaking of which, you seem to have some spare magic; why not power this thing up right now? It’ll probably consume less magic overall.”

You share a quick look with the Shy Away. Eh, it’s pretty obvious this Sling Shy is just in it for himself, so it’s not like he’s trying to maliciously sabotage your efforts.

Shrugging, you accept it. The metal is cool to the touch, but the slightest shock goes through your system. Kinda like when you touched Johnny’s Star Piece, but not nearly as painful.

You’re pretty confused about what to do, so the Sling Shy explains in his slightly degrading way. In the end, you just have to conjure your magic in a controlled manner like you’ve been doing all along, and the scepter will just absorb it. “Like a battery,” you said, to which both Shy Guys exchanged confused glances.

What remained of your magic was pretty much sapped by the staff. Even so, the gem topping it glows bright enough to douse most of the hall in its red glow without siphoning your magic to do so.

“Alright,” the Sling Shy says, “now that that’s taken care of, let’s get going.”

And the three of you do, eventually stumbling into what looks like a dead end, save for tons of plantlife. You’re about to turn around and continue limping toward another hallway before the Shy Away murmurs, “I think I see something…”

Sweeping aside a few leaves shows that, yes, there is something hidden behind all the vines. From the looks of it, there’s a door with some sort of strange symbol on it...kinda like a club but more stylized or fancy?

“It’s the royal crest,” the Shy Away explains. “Maybe...this place is meant to serve as a bunker for the people? If the royal crest is here, then only their magic will be able to open this door…”

The Sling Shy rustles through his sack, procuring what looks like a bean. “Yeah, but why not let them try? Their magic’s pretty potent from what I can tell. Anyways, anything’s better than nothing; eat this.”

You accept it and pop it into your mouth, chewing slowly. It’s not the best, but it’s surprisingly okay. Even more is that you can feel a bit of your magic returning. Shooting a quick “thanks” down at the Sling Shy, you shove through the plant life and stand before the door.

At his behest, you summon your magic and press your hands against the cool wood.

You yelp and fall back onto your butt, hissing in both pain and surprise. The crest carved into the doors burst into green light before they struggle apart without aid. Vines tear and fall, having lost their support and you’re left to watch alongside your two companions.

And just like that it all stops.

The Sling Shy is the first to move. Without missing a beat, he pries the scepter from your grasp and stashes it back into his sack as he passes you to survey the revealed passageway. Satisfied, he calls, “This looks like our way out, so hurry it up! You’ve got a witch to defeat and I’ve got an empty stomach to fill!”

After the Shy Away tries - and fails - to help you up, you’re soon to limp behind the Sling Shy and into the unknown.

*** * * * * * ***

You never thought you’d be glad to see the familiar hallways of the Nimbus Land palace proper.

Ignoring the skittish babbling behind you, you hurl a few Diamond Saws and cleave through several Birdies. Having found a Honey Syrup in another chest, the Sling Shy has taken to using his newly acquired staff to shoot small beams of offensive magic.

Once the immediate threat is gone, you turn to the green Shy Guy. “I thought you were supposed to be apprehending me or whatever. Become a traitor to the throne, have we?”

The Shy Away flitters about oddly - maybe his version of a giggle? - while the Sling Shy grumbles, “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be stuck down in the dungeons. And frankly, you’re strong and I’m not gonna pass up the chance to let you do all the dirty work. But I’ll probably ditch you once you’ve settled the score with Valentina.”

You feel yourself stare off into space. “Uh-huh, okay then. Fair enough.”

“Say,” he continues, pointing at the Shy Away, “why’re _you_ sticking around? Decided the bottom of Valentina’s shoes don’t taste so good anymore?”

You can’t help clicking your tongue in annoyance, but the Shy Away seems nonplussed. “Oh no, I still have my duties, but...I suppose I have faith the seer and their allies can banish Lady Valentina from Nimbus Land. So I’ll remain neutral for the time being.”

“Ah, an opportunist. You’re not so bad, gardener.”

Somehow, the faint bickering you share with the Sling Shy makes traversing the maze-like corridors easier. It also allows you to take out some minor frustrations of your current situation - lost, low on FP - in a friendly manner.

It takes longer than you’d like to finally see a familiar room leading to excessively ornate doors, lined with nothing but golden statues of Valentina. Internally cursing your knee and lack of stamina, you limp toward the doors and hope the others are still on track. Surely you’ve been gone long enough for plot to happen, right?

Your prayers are answered when you step out of the palace and into the central square of Nimbus Land, where Valentina is currently speaking to the people.

You don’t see your friends, so they must still be climbing through the clouds...hopefully.

Thankful you seem to have the typical luck of a self-insert, you hide yourself behind a pillar and continue watching. The Shy Away flits to your shoulder and the Sling Shy also sticks to your side, strangely enough.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” the Sling Shy hisses quietly. “Her back is turned; now’s the perfect time to strike!”

“Are...are you really going to challenge Lady Valentina…?” the Shy Away asks, watery voice quivering even more.

But before you can do anything, you notice movement from the corner of your eye. You turn and you can practically feel your heart stutter in fear when you’re met with the massive frame of Dodo. Being larger than even Bowser, seeing him stare down at you with beady white eyes is...horrifying, to put it lightly.

And while you may not know much about avians, you’re not so dumb as to not see his feathers rise and the body beneath tense. You know what those sorts of movements signal.

It also helps that he’s, y’know, a _boss_ in a video game, so you also figure the aggressiveness is a given.

You move before your mind realizes what’s going on. The next thing you know is that you’re curling protectively around the Shy Away and Sling Shy before something heavy slams into your back. Weightlessness and then pain when you crash onto the cobbled ground before the palace’s front steps.

You’re left gasping for breath while the Sling Shy scrambles from underneath you. “H-hey, get off me you frigid oaf…! What was—”

The Shy Away also clamors out from under you, wings buzzing softly and watering can still in his grasp. “L-Lady Valentina…! I-I—”

The giant barely glances down at the Shy Away before her glossed lips curl in disgust. “I was wondering where you went, and here you are, gallivanting with the seer who seeks to dethrone me?”

Then she drags her eyes to the Sling Shy, who’s more or less holding onto his scepter like a lifeline. “And you…? Throwing in your lot with them as well? And here I thought putting you in time-out within the true dungeons would teach you loyalty.”

The Sling Shy’s mask doesn’t move, but his shaking frame betrays his fear. Even so, he complains, “I almost starved down there! If I didn’t stick with them, then I probably would have, no thanks to you!”

The looks of pure menace crossing Valentina’s face would be pretty funny, but none of you are in any condition to egg her on and still win the resulting fight.

The Shy Away’s voice quakes so much you’re surprised you can still understand through the ringing in your ears. “I-I...no; this was all an accident…!”

But Valentina doesn’t listen, chilly magic gathering in her hands. She summons that weird board thing she usually floats on in-game, but the magic doesn’t dissipate, instead manifesting as two familiar looking snowflakes. The civilian Nimbians gasp and begin to run away.

With a snarl, she growls, “Pesky little traitors like you deserve to be punished!”

She hurls her Diamond Saws at the Shy Away, who doesn’t even try to dodge unlike the Sling Shy, who scrambles behind your crouched frame. In an effort to save the little guy, you jump up and summon your own crude version of the spell, opting to use them as a shield to deflect Valentina’s saws.

It works and with a shrill screech, her spell is flung away and into the palace behind you, from the sounds of it.

You shove both Shy Guys away harshly, managing a quick “_Run_!” before Valentina powers up another ice spell. Crystal, judging by the hunks of ice which shortly slam into your head and shoulders.

Even if you have an Amulet equipped, man does her magic _hurt_.

Hissing at both the resulting numbness and pain, you stagger upright and conjure your own magic. You manage to fire off a semi-decent Storm under Valentina before she retaliates with a series of insanely bright lights. _Aurora Flash_…?

You flinch back, temporarily blinded. Already unsteady on your feet, you trip over something huddled near your calves. A watery-sounding curse means the Sling Shy didn’t leave your side, despite your command.

“Dod—Prince Mallow! Don’t just stand there…! Lend me your aid!”

Your eyesight returns just in time to see Dodo puff up, feet hustling beneath his girth. Without any warning, you rear back and punt the Sling Shy as hard as you can with your bum leg. He yelps something as he sails through the air, thankfully out of range.

Because, in the next second, Dodo slams into you and sends you vaulting off.

You land painfully, that one rib twinging as nerves fire sporadically through it. You can barely catch your breath before you feel the distinct chill of another ice spell. As soon as you think ‘maybe it won’t be so bad if it’s Crystal’ does a fucking _glacier_ erupt from underneath you, sending you careening up, completely breathless. _Hurts_…

Before you can slam back onto the ground, an incessant buzzing invades your senses. Your fall slows enough so you only smack down with little injury as opposed to broken bones or cracking your head open yet again.

Valentina’s husky voice is strangely shrill. “You—you filthy little _traitor_—!”

Surprisingly, the Shy Away manages a retort. “Y-you tried to h-hurt me first…!”

“After everything I’ve done for you...truly useless as all servants are!”

The Shy Away yelps and hurriedly fiddles with his watering can. You can feel a tiny spark of subtly shifting magic in addition to clinking metal. The next moment a trickling stream of cool water douses you and your clothes, leaving you sputtering a bit. He still had some tonic left? No; did he conjure it with magic…?

Fatigue mostly alleviated, your eyes snap to attention. You manage to roll out of the way of another of Dodo’s charges, leaving the overgrown bird faltering to halt himself.

A bright array of lights fling from your peripheral to smack directly into the bird’s black feathers, eliciting a pained jump.

“That’s what you get for nearly running me over!” the Sling Shy gripes behind you.

Valentina curses. “You…! Seems like I have to tend to everything myself around here. _So be it_…!”

Before she can do much with the icy magic swirling around her palms, you hurl your own Diamond Saws. Your aim isn’t the best, but they get the job done because they smack into the side of her head as opposed to her torso like you wanted.

Despite your best efforts, one of the giantess’ spells slips past you and hits the Sling Shy, who lets out a pained squawk. You glance behind you only to see the Shy Away trying to tend to the other’s wounds, which manifest as tears in his green robe. Another of Dodo’s charges nearly runs the pair over and you run to give them more cover.

Casting a wide Storm to obscure both Valentina’s and Dodo’s vision, you turn. “The castle; get cover—hide in the castle. _Hurry_!”

But the obscuring spell goes both ways, so you don’t see the woman’s Diamond Saws until they slam into your stomach, sending you careening backwards into the front steps of the palace. The only respite you have from the pain is seeing the Shy Away lift his companion and fly the two of them back into the labyrinthian place. Good.

With you the sole object left of the pair’s ire, you’re now forced to take the brunt of both their attacks. You last for what feels like a solid minute or two before your stamina is whittled back down. _Where the heck are the others_…?!

Your self-insert luck strikes again, and thank goodness it does.

Somehow, you got turned around during your skirmish, resulting in your back to a nearby edge in the cloudy foundation. An explosion from Valentina’s Water Blast - still hurts like a bitch - sends you flying through the air and over the edge—at least until you slam into something big and warm.

“What—shrimp?!”

Bowser is nice enough to hold you tight to his larger body as he finishes his own arc through the air, likely the result of a spring. Your world is still kinda spinning, but you sag with relief upon seeing the rest of your friends.

Everyone lands, shooting you surprised looks before noticing both Valentina and Dodo, who stand battle-ready.

“You liar!” Woah, since when could Mallow sound _this_ angry? “_I’m_ Prince Mallow, not that bird! And you’re just a selfish lady who betrayed my ma and pa! So I’m gonna save them _and_ Nimbus Land from you…!”

You hear a chatter emerge from the scant few Nimbians who didn’t initially scatter. Their suspicious gazes and words cause Valentina to growl lowly, stained lips curled in disgust. “Little brat…!”

Mallow is clearly having none of it. “I’ll show you ‘little brat!’”

And he promptly summons a truly massive thunderbolt underneath the giant.

You can’t help the low attempt at a whistle when you see how charred Valentina looks after the blinding light dissipates. The fact she’s also royally pissed is just adding to your elation; clearly, your friends had an easier time than you, if how strong and sure they seem is any indication. Probably found healing items along the way.

Speaking of which…

“Thank the _stars_,” Shyster breathes when he scampers up to you, familiar yellow bag strung around him. He’s quick to drop his and your bag, procuring a Honey Syrup as he does so. “Knowing your luck, I’m glad to see you still in one piece. Here; drink this. You look like you need it.”

“Aww shucks,” you grin, licking your lips free of the sweet concoction, setting aside the empty glass.

“Normally I’d ask what the hell you were up to—”

“Being Valentina and Dodo’s punching bag for the last few minutes. ‘S pretty much it.”

You just stick your tongue out when Shyster hurls a glare so venomous you’re glad you have a Safety Badge to prevent poison. Man, you’re already feeling better.

“We’ll talk later.” And just like that he readies his mace and jumps into the fray, you following shortly thereafter.

Thankfully, as per most video games, having a larger party makes the resulting fight much, _much_ easier than going at it solo. Mallow is being a menace with his magic - did he just cast Star Rain? - alongside your and Geno’s spells, while Bowser and Mario have taken to beating the tar outta Valentina and Dodo the ol’ fashioned way. And Shyster…

A metallic clang rings out when he nearly smacks Dodo’s helmet off his head. Judging by how the bird staggers, you figure being hit in the head with a mace must suck.

A Geno Whirl shoots through the open air alongside your pair of Diamond Saws, cleaving through the fan Valentina’s been using as a shield. She curses when the spells slam into her neck, tossing away her fan’s remnants.

Well, if there’s another thing here that’s true to its video game counterpart, it’s that Valentina’s...y’know, still shake a lot when she’s hit. It’d be a lot funnier if you weren’t also trying not to die via painful ice magic.

“_Achk_—!”

You’re once again vaulted into the air trying to limp out of the way of another of Valentina’s spontaneous stalagmites. You land painfully, wheezing for breath. A shadow falls over you before hands wrap themselves around your torso.

“That looked like it hurt.” Yeah, no _shit_, Geno.

But you just groan a bit as the spirit hefts you back onto your feet.

Before he can release you to shoot some more lasers at the giant, she interrupts the din by howling, “Dodo, stop fooling around already!”

Oh wait a moment; doesn’t he pick up the middle fighter for a one-on-one match? Why—why’s he looking at you? Oh _no_—

And that’s how you find yourself clutching onto Geno like your life depends on it, because Dodo had the brilliant idea to dig his claws into the doll. You eye the cloudy ground below, wondering how the heck a bird so fat can fly so high. Nimbus Land passes by underneath, looking small and you’re sorta glad Geno probably can’t feel how tightly you’re holding on to him. At least he has the decency to keep a hold on you, too.

The three of you pass over what looks like a small cropping of forest before Dodo releases Geno’s cape. You’re not sure who started it, but both you and the spirit yell as you rapidly approach the ground. You know from experience that, despite being made of fluffy clouds, there isn’t _nearly_ enough cushion to prevent injuries upon landing.

Summoning a quick Storm saves the two of you from splatting, but you also don’t stick the landing.

“_Argh_...get offa me…!”

Straightening his cap, Geno pries himself away from you. “Sorry.” He helps you up again, but luckily there aren’t any more distractions from getting back onto your feet.

You’re soon to eye the one who brought you to this secluded plot, feeling your magic winding inside you like a raging current. Geno likewise unhinges his arms until they resemble cannons more than guns. And Dodo just puffs up his feathers, feet scraping against the clouds like he means to charge you.

Geno eyes your quivering knee before nodding once. “I’ll give you cover to cast your spells. Don’t worry about hitting me; I’m resistant to your magic.”

And just like that, the two of you fall right back into the usual melee mindset.

Despite being two-on-one, Dodo is a tough bird—pun intended. Even if he’s not resistant to your magic, it seems to do little in the face of his sheer bulk. Much like the hundreds of bullets Geno’s been firing at him, he shakes both those and your spells off like minor inconveniences instead of, y’know, attacks.

Dodo rams into Geno, sending the doll off with a startled yelp. The window of opportunity presents itself and you cast Water Blast, causing the air around the clearing to shimmer with heat. Soon enough, a myriad of explosions ring out and cover the arena in steam.

Knowing that standing still would make you a target, you limp toward the other side of the treeline where Geno’s currently staggering upright.

Sure, he’s basically like 90% iron bullets, but you still find yourself struggling to help the doll up. “Ergh...you’re pretty hefty for being made of wood.”

Rearranging his arms back into weapons, he quirks a brow. “The wood hides the fact I’m mostly mechanical well, then. Even so, I doubt me being taller than you has anything to do with your ability to lift me.”

You scoff at the light jab, making to step away to start casting again.

Unfortunately, Dodo decided to not go after your previous position, but Geno’s. Which means he’s currently barreling toward the two of you, large beak shining like all those stabbing weapons that’ve been pointed at you. In essence: oh _crap_.

Geno just grunts, slamming one of his arm cannons into you and shoving you away. As you stumble backward, you’re forced to watch Dodo screech past in a blur of black, yellow, and red.

_Crunch_!

Something flies overhead, obscuring the sun for a second or two. You hear Geno fire his weapon in retaliation but you’re too preoccupied by finally making out _what_ just arced overhead.

Your eyes follow it as it lands nearby with a heavy _thud_.

Anxious sweat begins to bead at the back of your neck. “O-oh shit.”

“I’m fine…! Focus on casting!”

You rear back, startled. Finding Geno’s wide red eyes, you can’t help but glance down at where there’s an empty space where there should be an arm. But his cape obscures the wound and he grits out, “I can’t feel it, so stop worrying. Now go; I’ll cover you…!”

You feel your head bob in accordance, stumbling away and past the discarded limb lying a few feet away.

Or at least you tried to, having tripped at the same moment Geno calls out, “_Stars_—watch out!”

Glancing back shows Dodo attempting to rush at you, having apparently avoided Geno’s attacks. Considering the spirit has only half his potential power, well, it’s kinda expected.

Operating on pure instinct and knowing you don’t have enough time to cast anything, you reach for Geno’s arm. In one swift movement, you swing it like a club. The heavy sound of it smacking into Dodo’s face is music to your ears.

The bird halts, stunned. You take the opportunity to press both palms into his downy feathers - surprisingly soft and warm - and call upon your magic. _Now’s your chance_…!

You cast a point-blank Water Blast, putting as much vigor into it as you can. The resulting force sends you tumbling backwards for a fair distance. Once you regain your bearings, you glance up only to see the spell also send Dodo reeling back, placing you far out of his reach.

Dropping Geno’s arm, you stand up on shaky legs and begin casting once more. Geno tries to provide you with the necessary cover, but he’s resorting to casting his own spells because he’s lacking one of his main physical weapons. Slowly but surely, both of your magic stores run low. Thankfully, it looks like the fatigue is also getting to Dodo, if his sudden pauses are anything to go by.

“Storm…!”

Your magic rushes under Dodo’s feet, surrounding him in its turbulent embrace. The makeshift smokescreen prevents the bird from dodging Geno’s laser, one of the few spells he’s able to cast with some of his body missing. You did hear him angrily mutter about being unable to “act as a conduit for Geno Blast” earlier.

...huh. Why’re most of the strongest spells called ‘blast?’

Dodo erupts from the dual attack, shaking his head and huffing silently. With a speed his frame hides well, he leaps toward Geno and does his Drill Peck skill...or was that the Pokemon move? Eh, semantics.

Geno tries to defend himself as best he can with one arm, but you spot more splinters and metallic fragments falling off him. That’s...not optimal.

With a final rush, Dodo slams the doll away, leaving you as the bird’s sole target.

Turns out it’s a lot harder to dodge his Drill Peck skill than Geno made it look. Case and point, your arms are covered in an array of fresh bruises and cuts because the bird’s beak is stupid sharp.

Then Dodo rears back and headbutts your torso with his metallic helmet. You choke on a breath, struggling to take more air in as you’re thrown back from the force. Although it doesn’t feel like you broke anything, it sure as hell doesn’t feel nice; that one rib remains lit with a pain that might indicate a fracture, though.

As you’re struggling to regain your footing, Dodo continues going for you. Faintly, you make out Geno’s yells and firing gun through the ringing in your ears.

And then something strange happens. Or it would be, had you not already experienced something like it before.

You’ve felt yourself go purely on the defensive before, return to your basal instincts which results in your already difficult magic to flare even more. Like most humans, your fight or flight response activates and like the other times, your body chooses to fight—“Probably the result of yer stored rage,” Johnny had said.

Your arms whip out until your fingernails are digging into the flesh beneath the feathers. You’re not sure what expression you’re wearing, but it’s enough to cause Dodo to stall in his attack. And your magic continues to flare, like it’s trying to reach some unspoken threshold—_there_.

The gentle blue glow of your magic ignites until it’s pouring out of you like crashing waves. It circles around you and Dodo, faster and faster like a whirlpool. Your loose clothes and bandana whip in the conjured winds, smacking against your skin almost painfully.

It’s then when you realize your feet are no longer on the ground.

Your new spell continues to assault both you and Dodo. It seems to be causing more damage to the bird, judging by the slew of feathers being ripped from him.

Your attempt to claw into him fails, and he’s soon consumed by the magic hurricaning around you. Like the center of a storm, the winds calm down around you, leaving you levitating for a brief moment.

You’re barely able to glance down to see the ground a lot farther than you expected before your spell dissipates.

A scream catches in your throat as you begin plummeting. Despite the massive dent to your FP stores, you’re able to conjure a weak Storm to somewhat break your fall. Thankfully, what actually breaks your fall is Geno, who somehow catches you with his single arm.

“Thu-thanks,” you breathe, painfully aware of your dumb rib. “Where’s—?”

Setting you back onto shaky feet, Geno shakes his head and eyes the far treeline. “Your spell sent him flying that way. Speaking of which, I’m pretty sure that’s where the others still are with Valentina. If we hurry—”

“Yeah. Yeah; oh-okay.”

After picking up Geno’s severed arm, you both make your way through the dense cropping of trees. It takes a few minutes to stumble through into the open sun on the other side, and even longer to make your way to the palace’s front.

But contrary to the raging battle you expect, Valentina’s currently standing over Dodo, who’s rubbing his head.

“You overgrown chicken! What were you thinking?! Being a bird, I would’ve at _least_ expected you to try and _not_ ram into me when flying!”

Dodo says nothing, still clearly gathering his bearings.

It’s then when you notice none other than Shyster slowly sidling up to the woman. What was he—?

From your perspective, it almost looks like he smacks her ass, causing her to yelp in surprise and you to burst into a crude snorting fit. It’s only then when you see him scamper away from her resulting slap, something gleaming in his hands. _Oh right; the key_…!

“Right on,” you crow, still heavily leaning against Geno for support as Shyster wisely seeks refuge behind Bowser’s hulking frame.

“Damn runt…!” Valentina huffs, seeming to notice her poor state and the audience of Nimbian civilians who probably watched the spectacle. “Well...I guess this is good-bye! Keep this derelict kingdom for yourself; see if I care!”

And just like that, she whirls on Dodo who, in short order, cards the both of them away.

It takes a moment for everyone to catch their breath, because holy _crap_ the Nimbus Land arc is tedious. That and they managed to beat a fricken’ giant. Sure, you like to think you helped, what with keeping her occupied long enough for the others to show up and properly hand down a whooping, but in the end you’re just glad everyone seems fine.

“Stars above, what happened to you guys?!”

You wince as Mallow hurries to you and Geno. The little prince’s distress grows when he notices Geno’s severed arm in your grasp. Coupled with how bloody and bruised you feel...it probably doesn’t look good.

“Never mind us,” you start, wincing a bit at the scathing look Shyster has when he approaches next. Eyeing the key in his hands, you return your attention to Mallow. “There’s more important things to worry about, like your parents.”

The prince goes to say something before Shyster hastily deposits the massive key into his hands. “Oh...right.”

Mallow clutches the key close, a contemplative expression crossing his face. He looks from you and Geno to scan over everyone else, who show their own support. Heck, Bowser’s shooting him a thumbs-up _and_ a toothy grin.

The prince nods once. After giving Shyster a quick hug which results in the Shy Guy squawking angrily, he turns away to scamper up the castle’s front steps.

Mario motions to the princess, who seemingly understands his silent movements and opens her umbrella over them. Deciding to follow in his wise precautions, you crouch low and hold Geno’s cape over you, ushering Shyster to likewise seek cover.

The spirit doesn’t sound too pleased when he intones, “I’m almost afraid to ask what you’re doing—”

Mallow doesn’t disappoint, because not even a second later the skies darken and rain douses everything in sight.

The abrupt rainfall lasts only a few moments before the sun continues shining onto Nimbus Land. You and Shyster share a good laugh at the very pissed, soaked-cat look Geno has, continuing when you see Bowser’s wet mane sticking to his forehead.

When Mallow finally peeks out from the front doors, beckoning you, you make to follow after the others but find a wooden arm holding you back.

Curious, you look at Geno who refuses to do the same, at least for a second. Voice no louder than a whisper, he asks, “Are we close to finishing our journey?”

Ah. Right. The sooner you accomplish the main quest, the sooner everything’ll end.

Voice suddenly trapped in your tight throat, you can only bring yourself to nod. You slap on a grin to make up for the lack of cheer, but it doesn’t fool him in the slightest.

He sighs, long and drawn. “...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s…” You shrug. “I’ve already accepted it. Mostly.”

And if you look up to see Shyster bickering with Bowser up on the staircase, well, Geno says nothing of it.

Even so, he does try again. “If...if you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

The smile your lips morph into is more genuine. “Thanks. I’ll probably take you up on that later.”

And Geno returns your weary grin as best he can, before tilting his head up. “C’mon; let’s go. We’ve got a king and queen to meet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi-ho.
> 
> Uhhh...here! Have some world-building and fighting! And page breaks, because those haven't really been around, ha ha...ha...
> 
> Hope you enjoy the long-ish chapter! (The next few are also sorta tedious, sooo...whoopsie!)


	18. In Hot Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up for reader!

Turns out there’s more than meets the eye with Queen and King Nimbus. Like, for example, never was it stated or even hinted at in-game that the queen was even more of an adept healer than Toadstool, or that Mallow’s excessively powerful weather magic was inherited from his father. Honestly, you were more psyched about the first one since, y’know, you _were_ pretty beat up.

“Th-thank you,” you breathe, no longer feeling pain lance up your side to do so. “Er, your majesty.”

“It is of no concern,” the woman smiles gently. “It is the least I can do to repay what you have done for us, our kingdom, and most importantly, our son.”

You can only bring yourself to grin goofily at the praise, because it’s a wonder at all why you were so averse to helping the main heroes. After all, the gratitude you feel when you’ve helped someone else is...indescribable. In a good way, that is.

Queen Nimbus moves on to the others, healing their injuries with the gentle heat the princess’ magic also has. Cliche, but healing magic feels like a big ol’ hug. And attesting to the queen’s prowess, she heals almost everyone without issue, still standing tall and proud.

Once she comes across Geno’s severed arm, she hums and haws a bit. “Oh dear...the only part of your body I’m capable of healing is the wood.” She seems to notice his disappointment before she offers him a kind smile. “But worry not, as I believe there is a way to fix this.”

She claps twice, to which a small bird in a nearby cage flits to her outstretched hand. “Deary, would you please fetch Garro for me?”

As soon as the tweety bird flies out of the castle, the king addresses you.

“Well, it seems we have much to discuss—and celebrate! After all, it’s not every day travelers from the surface save our fair kingdom from overzealous giants, _bah ha ha_! And beyond that…”

Here the king leans down, seeming unable to help himself as he wraps his arms around Mallow. Voice mellow if a bit tight, “You have done a great service by not only watching out for our son, but also guiding him back to us.”

Queen Nimbus soon joins the hug, round eyes shining with tears. “Oh dear; to think I thought I was done with all the crying. But my husband is right; you’ve done so much for us, I’m not sure there’s any meaningful way to repay you.”

“That’s not true!” Mallow squirms out from under his parents’ arms, looking a bit teary-eyed himself. Shaking his head—body feverently, he exclaims, “You’re the king and queen of Nimbus Land—and you’re my parents! If I can help everyone else out, then...then you can do so much more!”

Geno interrupts. “I believe what Mallow’s trying to say is that we’ve been informed you _are_ integral to our mission.”

“Your mission?” the king questions at the same moment the queen hums, “The surface…”

The two exchange quick looks before the queen takes the moment to quickly give her husband a run-down of what she’s sensed. First comes the realization that during their shared house arrest, being the powerful magical beings they are, they had some idea of what was occuring outside Nimbus Land. Then she speaks about how the “magic power above” has been fractured so thoroughly she cannot sense it anymore. “Though there are still echoes of it below,” she summarizes.

“Now that you mention it, I’ve felt similar unease on the surface,” the king muses. “While Valentina severed our connection years ago, only recently have I sensed such disquiet down there. An amalgamation of force unlike anything I’ve felt before; like the newest magic, but as if it were fire and ice magic intertwined together. Like metal.”

Your group shares a quick look before Toadstool confirms the whole ordeal with Smithy’s invasion and the consequent destruction of the Star Road. “He...well, as far as I know, he _made_ the ones who invaded my kingdom.”

“Y’know, his name _is_ Smithy,” Shyster comments. “As in he’s some sorta blacksmith. His hideout’s a factory, after all.”

Seeing a few of the others throwing glances toward you, you wrinkle your nose. “I might’ve let a few things slip when we first met; he’s pretty good at interrogations or I’m about as durable as wet tissue paper.”

“I’m inclined to believe it’s the latter.”

You click your tongue. “Did I mention I cracked my head open again today? Think I might be going for a record here.”

Ignoring Shyster’s resultant glare, you go on to explain that Smithy does, in fact, reside within a factory...that factory being a pocket dimension of sorts within Exor. “Y’know, the giant sword sticking outta Bowser’s place? The one that broke Star Road? That’s Exor.”

“And the origin of all Smithy’s creations, right?” You nod and Geno purses his lips—or the close enough approximation, since he doesn’t have any. “Then the generals we’ve fought before; they were all made at least in part from metal. And now that I think about it, they were all fashioned after weapons…”

You confirm his lingering question. “Yeah. Smithy made them. There’ll probably be more when we get to the factory.”

King Nimbus exchanges a worried glance with his wife. “And here I was, thinking Mallow would’ve been safe on the surface…”

He sighs before plastering on a beaming grin. “Yet to think our Mallow was helping in the restoration of Star Road all along! He’s certainly grown to be a good, strong boy.” Sniffing a bit, his bushy mustache twitches. “I’m so proud…!”

Rubbing soothing circles in his shoulder, Queen Nimbus hushes him. “There, there, dear...but he’s right; not only have you saved our kingdom, but you’re working to save everyone else. And from the sounds of it, you’re not yet done with your endeavor.”

Mario tips his cap whilst shaking his head, several of the others mimicking the motion.

The queen nods in tandem before similarly adopting a bright smile. “Well, then surely you all require time to rest yourselves! Come, come; you’re our honored guests for the time being! And we’ve much to discuss over dinner.”

Mallow perks up. “So you know somethin’ that’ll help us?”

The queen just smiles sweetly. “Yes dear, I believe I do. But first I insist you all rest for the time being.”

It’s at that precise moment when another Nimbian jogs through the front doors, huffing a bit. “Y-you called, your...majesties…”

“Garro, old friend!” King Nimbis booms, moving to wrap the smaller in a crushing hug while the queen laughs. “It’s been far, far too long, _ha ha_!”

It’s then when you notice just how massive both the king and queen are compared to the average Nimbian. After all, they both dwarf Garro by a foot or more. Is Mallow gonna grow up to be that big, too? ‘Cause right now, he’s comparatively a runt.

The three share a quick but heartfelt reunion before Garro approaches your group. “Oh, thank the stars for you…! If it wasn't for your interference, our fair kingdom would’ve lost not only our prince, but our king and queen. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!”

Toadstool giggles and curtsies, Mario tips his hat, Bowser huffs self-assuredly, but Mallow just beams. “You helped us, too, Mr. Garro! We would’ve never made it in here otherwise.”

You exchange bewildered looks with Shyster and Geno when the sculptor bows to rapidly shake the prince’s hand.

Remembering himself, Garro stiffens again and asks, “Now, how may I be of service?”

Queen Nimbus motions to Geno, who’s been relegated to holding his own severed arm. Garro makes his way over and begins to murmur under his breath as he looks at all the metallic parts hanging out of Geno like muscle fragments or connective tissue.

Apparently done, Garro nods once before smiling over at the king and queen. “I’m going to need my toolbox, but it looks like something I can fix in a few hours. It’s the least I can do…!”

As soon as he leaves, the queen turns to your group. Clapping her hands, she requests for all but Geno to follow her. And as you follow her lead into the castle where you see several Nimbian servants already running around, you’re just glad you’re being given the opportunity to rest. Because holy moly, you need a nap.

*** * * * * * ***

Dinner with the king and queen proved to be delightful, if only because it warmed your cold, dead heart to see Mallow reconnecting with them. This rekindling continued well into the night, since he decided to stay with his parents while the rest of you retreated to your own rooms.

You spent the next day relaxing, lounging around your cush rooms or exploring Nimbus Land without the threat of Valentina hanging over your heads. Sure, you had to endure a verbal lashing by Shyster for your little...adventure after Birdo, but in the end he was glad you ended up fine. “And don’t go making a habit of playing meat-shield when I’m not there,” he had stated, tone leaving no room for argument. You just shrugged it off by commenting neither of your Shy Guy companions could’ve handled any offensive threats like you could’ve.

“‘Sides, you saw Valentina and Dodo; you tell me if I could’ve actually run with my dumb knee,” you retorted, to which Shyster just huffed and replied you could’ve sought cover inside the castle. Which was fair, but you didn’t admit it so you still won. Kinda.

Still, it was nice to see Nimbus Land so lively, especially the palace. Apparently, all those tiny birds flitting around the interior were actually transformed into those Birdie enemies by Valentina, which makes you wonder what happened to those you rendered into smoke. Regardless, their chirpy songs elevate the feel of the place, alongside the freed servants and maids. All in all, everyone seems a lot happier.

Heck, you even got the chance to say goodbye to that Sling Shy. Well, he actually came up to you looking for some sort of advice ‘cause you’re a seer, buuut…

“So you know things before they’re gonna happen, right?” You nodded and the green Shy Guy repeated the motion. “Alright then, what can you tell me so I can make it big down on the surface?”

You remember just stifling a laugh, eyeing his newly acquired leather backpack with the trademark scepter sticking out of it. But being the sassy fiend he was, he just kept complaining until you relented.

“Okay, okay, so...uh. Maybe...well, ‘s not much, but maybe you shouldn’t be so flighty? Like, don’t go backstabbing others for your personal gain. Or extra rations. Also don’t trust anyone named Fawful. Aaand...that’s it, I guess.”

You had bit back a grin when the Sling Shy just shrugged before throwing a quick thanks your way before departing, stubby legs carrying him down the Great Stalk.

It was cute, putting you in notably high spirits when you went on with your day.

And speaking about the food...you can understand why that Sling Shy was so enamoured with the local cuisine. Nimbians were vegetarians due to having little land for rearing animals, but their specialty are plants, so. The meals were a delight, which was kinda funny but also sad ‘cause Geno couldn’t partake. At least the queen and Garro fixed his arm.

So while Mario walked the princess around the kingdom at her leisure, you basically just napped the day away in your fluffy cloud bed. Well, before Shyster and Bowser, of all people, demanded you “get up and do something.” Geno and Mallow hung around the king and queen, the latter for obvious reasons, and the former to learn more about the Star Piece, probably.

Which leads to where you are now.

Mallow parted from the shared hug between him and his parents. Wiping a tear away, he simply nods. “Well, I’m gonna be leavin’ with Mario and everyone else.”

“Of course, dear,” Queen Nimbus agrees. “Just promise us you’ll return to us, safe and sound once more.”

The prince nods. “O’ course. But I gotta finish what we started!”

“Finishing what you started, eh?” King Nimbus laughs, but it’s muted compared to his own teary eyes. “Knowing that the fate of our world - both us and the surface - is in your hands, well...I can sleep easy.”

Mallow grins. “Just you wait; I’ll make the both of you proud!”

Queen Nimbus giggles. “Oh Mallow...you already have. Now, go; see more of the world and save it. I’ve already informed your friend of where the next fragment of Star Road resides.”

She eyes Geno who returns with a single nod. “Yes. And you’ve said the way to get to Barrel Volcano from Nimbus Land is through the lower levels?”

“Indeed, indeed!” King Nimbus goes on to explain the royal family’s personal springs rest above the volcano, being heated by its latent heat. “‘Tis also a good way to determine if the volcano’s about to blow as well! Ah, but the royal transport is currently unavailable…”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Geno says, eyeing you. Apparently seeing the ‘oh shit I can’t believe I forgot’ expression, he returns his attention to the king. “Er, perhaps you should fix said transport…?”

You nod and both the king and queen glance at you. “Of course,” the queen says easily. “Surely if the seer sees it as important, I’ll let our mechanics know immediately.”

You gape like a fish, much to her apparent glee. She giggles before bowing and taking her leave. The king tells you how to get to the springs before also retreating further into the castle, but not with one last look at Mallow.

Following the king’s instructions, your group eventually arrived in the outdoor springs.

Much like they are in-game, they’re just a few pools embedded in the clouds, surrounded by trees and golden statues of both King and Queen Nimbus. And like in-game, they’re pleasantly bubbling and warm; probably means the massive volcano below isn’t due to explode any time soon.

“Y’know,” Bowser starts, looking at the clear waters, “why not stick around and rest our bones for a bit? Hey Sharkbait!”

You jump a bit. “Uh, y-yeah?”

“So we all know the next Star Piece is in the volcano, but we _don’t_ know if we’re gonna be fightin’ some more tough guys. So give it to us straight: do we get to have a go at some more of Smithy’s punks?”

You blink a few times. “Umm...yeah; five of them, actually. Buuut there’s also tons of scary enemies inside the volcano, like the...Czar Dragon? Bahamutt…? No, wait, that’s later...Basically expect a giant dragon made out of fireballs or lava. And then there are those weird...stone things? Uh.”

Licking your lips, you shrug. “Pretty sure most of the monsters in there are hard—er, y’know, difficult. Tough.”

Bowser huffs a bit before immediately taking a seat on the side of the nearest pool. “Well, you lot heard ‘em; let’s stick around for a bit before movin’ on.”

Strangely, you see Geno readily agree before taking off his boots, shortly thereafter sinking his feet into the water. Idly, you wonder if he can even feel the heat.

Soon enough everyone takes a few minutes to just unwind before the next leg of your quest. Seems like they understand it’ll be another long, arduous process. But after Barrel Volcano is just...Exor and the factory inside him. And then Smithy…

You sigh, glad for the pleasant warmth of the water. _Soon, then_…

You can’t help the jealousy that rises up from the depths of your gut; everyone else seems so...calm. Like this whole ‘saving-the-world’ schtick is just another day in their lives. Which, since this is _Mario_, it might as well be. But it still doesn’t make you feel any better about your end of the stick with this entire thing. Helping them out is great and all, but…

Acutely aware of your face, you try to untwist it as best you can. Unfortunately, your eyes meet red ones and you can’t put a name to Geno’s expression. He doesn’t say anything, but averts his eyes and shifts a bit. Guilt, then.

You glance down at Shyster only to see him chatting with Bowser. The jealousy quickly turns into shame and you can’t bring yourself to look at him any more.

Listening to everyone else’s chatter, you idly thumb your bandana. _Just remember what Johnny said_…

You hate to admit you’re glad when your group stands before the edge of the clouds, eyeing the gaping opening to Barrel Volcano.

Shyster sighs. “You really weren’t lying about busting through a volcano.”

You sigh too. “Dude, I wish I was. _Ugh_, I hate hot places.”

“_Gwar har har_!” Bowser howls, crossing his arms. “You losers are just weak! Ah, reminds me of my fortress…’ey Mario, remember the good times when you got burned ‘cause of my interior decorations?”

Bowser laughs again when Mario shoots a positively seething look at him.

Thankfully, there isn’t a cutscene where you all fall out of the royal hot tub and into the volcano. Instead, much like the beanstalk leading up to Nimbus Land, there’s a bunch of smaller clouds drifting below, almost mimicking a staircase. Well, except for the fact they’re pretty far apart, but you can see them grow progressively darker as they morph into the smoke coming from the volcano.

Mario, being Mario, just takes one peek down, straightens his cap a bit, and leaps from one cloud to the next. It’s impressive, considering how portly the man is. But he’s also pretty young...like, isn’t he in his mid-twenties or something? Either way, he’s still got some pep in his step, that’s for sure, _pfft_.

Toadstool and Mallow follow next, the former using her parasol and floating magic to glide down. The prince just hangs on to her massive skirts, clearly not having an affinity for the open air despite being a cloud himself.

Bowser is indestructible, given he’s survived being doused in lava on multiple occasions; he just takes one leap and you see him drop into the volcano’s mouth. Not gonna lie; that’s pretty sick.

Geno is Geno, so automatically he can just follow Mario’s lead because he’s cool like that.

Which leaves you.

“Hm. This is a conundrum.”

Shyster snorts below you. “Please. Didn’t stop you that one time you fell off Booster Tower.”

“I at _least_ had a parachute back then.” Shifting the leash on your bag, you eye the clouds below. “And as we established with that debacle, I, uh, don’t really have the best aim.”

Shifting his own backpack, Shyster sniffs. “I doubt we’ve got the time for this, so either you do your whole Storm-schitck willingly, or I punt you off and force you to do it.”

“O-oh, wait just a moment, please…!”

Both you and Shyster turn only to see a Shy Away drifting down, tiny wings buzzing frantically. The metallic watering can in his grasp alludes to which Shy Away this is.

“Well, if it isn’t the Royal Gardener!” You grin when you see his mask burst into pink.

“I-I wanted to thank you, b-before you departed,” he says, fumbling with something in his robes’ pockets. He succeeds, prying out what looks like beans, save for them having an incredibly glossy sheen bordering on rainbow. “Um, these are beans I’ve been rearing for some time, now...La—Valentina found they restored all her magic, a-and since you use magic, maybe you can use these, too…”

You smile, gently taking the beans from the Shy Away who further babbles on how he chose their traits using a parent from the Beanbean Kingdom and another from a Great Stalk sprout. You humored him for a bit, at least until Shyster gave a very pointed cough.

“Ah, well, I supposed I’ve done what I wanted.” The Shy Away nods at you, then at Shyster. “Thank you for restoring Nimbus Land to its former glory.”

As he ascends, he stalls a bit before bashfully calling out, “It was nice meeting you, seer.” And then he disappears into the clouds beneath Nimbus Land.

“That was nice and all,” Shyster starts, eyeing the beans you’re struggling to find a place for, “but we should really get going. The others are probably wondering what’s holding us up.”

“I know, I know.” And you promptly pick up Shyster and ignore his angry squawks as you press him close.

Kneeling, heart racing behind your ribs, you leap away from the cloud. The feeling of falling, wind whipping your bandana and loose clothes against your skin, is exhilarating and terrifying.

As soon as you fall past the first cloud platform, Shyster comments, “You, uh, missed—”

“I know,” you reply, eyes never leaving the gaping opening of the volcano. “I wanna try something.”

“You—_what_? Now’s _not the time_—!”

Your cries of elation soon overturn his own indignant noises as you plummet faster and faster. As soon as you can feel the searing heat wash over you like a wave, you call upon your magic. Allowing it to run absolutely rampant, you cast your newest spell—still gotta come up with a name for it.

Your magic flares out like a hurricane or whirlpool, with you and Shyster at the center. And, much like before, your fall breaks until you’re left levitating in place. But then you look down into the volcano, see the others gathered on a rocky platform below, and think ‘now if only I could lower myself down there.’

Unbidden, your magic shifts ever so slightly, and—

You choke on a scream when the hurricane-like spell suddenly plummets like a drill. You clutch onto Shyster tight, hating how your spell is spinning you around as it descends. Briefly, you hear the surprised cries of the others before you slam into the ground, still somehow upright.

“Ughh...can’t…_see_…”

As soon as your magic dissipates, you drop Shyster before similarly crumpling to the ground in a heap, vision spinning wildly. _Ugh_, you’ve always had a keen weakness from spinning around; curse your weak constitution…!

Prying himself off the ground, Shyster is quick to whip around. Glaring, he seethes, “What was that? If you’ve got a new spell to practice, don’t do it while falling hundreds of feet into a stars-forsaken _volcano_!”

You just brush off the ash on your clothes, shooting him a wavering grin. “Hey! At least it, um, worked...right?”

Shyster just holds your stare for a bit before angrily muttering some watery curses, much to the bemusement of the others. You just laugh and readjust your messenger bag before getting back up.

Geno is quick to surmise your situation. “Looks like this place is gonna be another maze of corridors. Let’s make our way further toward the center and continue from there.”

You all agree, slowly walking after everyone else and into the darkness of Barrel Volcano.

*** * * * * * ***

Gasping for some much needed breath, you scamper behind everyone else whilst shooting off a few Diamond Saws. Those dang tree stump-looking monsters sure are bulky…!

A familiar orange circlet whizzes past you and directly into the hulking creature, rendering it into smoke.

Still huffing a bit, you turn. “Th-thanks for the save.”

Geno grunts in response, arm shifting back into...well, an arm. “Don’t mention it. But I have to ask, are we anywhere close to finding the Star Piece? We’ve been traversing inside this volcano for the better part of the day, now…”

Wiping some sweat from your brow, you take in everyone else’s haggard appearances. Honestly, the layers of frilly skirts doesn’t seem to be helping much in Toadstool’s case, Mario is beginning to look like a drowned rat with all his sweat, poor Mallow looks...you dunno, a bit deflated…? You _still_ have zero idea if Geno can feel anything like, at all. And then there’s Bowser, who for the most part looks right at home; if his constant crowing at everyone else is any indication, he’s living up the fact the rest of you are not up to snuff.

Pulling at the bandana around your neck, you nudge Shyster with your foot. “Speaking of which, how come you seem okay as covered as you are? Like, I’m practically drowning in my own sweat, and I’m only in a t-shirt and shorts for crying out loud!”

Shyster grumbles a bit in his own language. “Told you before,” he starts gruffly, “me and my people come from an arid land; the only difference here is that this is marginally warmer. I’d bet you’d still be complaining if it was freezing cold—”

“Absolutely not; I hate pants and even in the snow, shorts and a tee are fine, thank you very much.”

Shyster _tchs_. “Why am I not surprised. You were perfectly fine on the Sunken Ship, and that place was frigid.”

“Ever heard ‘like likes like?’”

“Uh, Sharkbait…?” You look down at Mallow, who shuffles a bit. “Um, ‘s there somewhere safe where we can rest a bit? Geno’s right; it’s about nightfall if I’m rememberin’ correctly.”

“Right, right…” You exchange a quick look with both Shyster and an irked Geno, falling back into your memories of the game. “I’m...pretty sure there’s a Toad who lives here—”

The princess gasps. “A Toad in Barrel Volcano? Really?”

Unable to help your grin when you see Mario fanning himself with his hat - oh man, his hair is actually sorta spiky! - you nod. “Yeah; his name’s Hinopio...I think? I’m—y’know, I’m not 100% sure, b-but I—yeah. Uh. Anyways…” You glance away at Geno’s impatient glare, “his, his alcove is about...halfway into Barrel Volcano? It’s—it’ll be safe, at least.”

Almost like an afterthought, you apologize. “Sorry. I—” Shaking your head, you limp forward. “He should be close.”

It takes only a few more sections and several more battles for your group to finally discover what appears to be an abandoned cave or mine shaft. Sure enough, there’s a crude but still functioning sign depicting the trademark mushroom and starman, indicative of both a shop and inn.

Stepping under the planks of wood holding the entrance up, Mario is the first to notice the lone person inside.

Hinopio startles a bit upon noticing your group, briefly shutting his newspaper. “Hmm, what’s this? Haven’t had any visitors in some time—by the stars, Princess Toadstool?”

The Toad speaks with the princess who asks a slew of questions, from which part of the Mushroom Kingdom did he come from to why he left in the first place, you take a closer look. Hinopio - confirmed; you were right - looks much like he does in-game, what with his flame-patterned cap and beady glasses. And his vest—is that _leather_ he’s wearing? Inside a _volcano_? Who does he think he is, Guy Fieri?

“Erm, sorry t’ say, but business is business, but I’ll settle for 5 coins per person,” the Toad says, motioning back at the crates.

Despite how absolutely done everyone else looks, you included, the princess is chipper when she exchanges the money. “Oh, it’s no problem! The fact you can provide sanctuary for us at all is too good to pass up at the moment.”

And so you all settle back against the slew of crates while Hinopio goes back to his paper.

As you’re digging into some rations for dinner, Shyster is the first to pipe up. Elbowing you, he asks, “So you never did talk about what happened at Nimbus Land. Y’know, after Birdo.”

Keenly aware of the attention you’re getting, you sigh and swallow your bite. Without delving into too much detail, you surmise that you basically fell into the palace’s hidden basement where you found a bunch of relics and a starving Sling Shy. You’re quick to gloss over how he was the one who told Valentina about you ahead of time, but you can’t help the stare you end up drilling into Geno. Still, you talk about how your merry trio managed to get back up to face Valentina and Dodo— “Until she punted me off,” you say. “Luckily, Bowser caught me before I could take another tumble, _ha_!”

Mallow actually giggles at your joke. “Y’know, for growing up around Rose Way, I never did see many Shy Guys. Kinda seems like you have a way with them, Sharkbait!”

You sputter a bit on your sip of water. “_Achk-ha-hah_, uh, I-I guess…? _Ha ha_, who knows…?”

“They even enamoured those annoying Greapers on the Sunken Ship,” Shyster quips. “I dunno about you guys, but those things gave me the creeps.”

You _psh_ in response. “Please; ghosts are cool and reapers are even cooler.”

Mario, of all people, snorts across from you while the princess laughs. “You know, Mallow brings up a good point; you do seem to attract a lot more trouble than I’d expect. First Shyster here, and then those pirates...now if only you could get one Koopa king off my back.”

If Toadstool hurls a quick glare over at Bowser who just takes a meatier bite out of his meal, well, you’re not gonna get in between that mess.

“You’re tellin’ me,” Shyster sighs, setting down his bread roll. “And here I was thinkin’ the clueless, naive idiot I ran into by Tadpole Pond would’ve just been a thorn in my side for all of a few minutes. Then I was wondering if I could swipe your frog coins before I ditched you.” He shifts a bit, tone decidedly friendlier when he states, “But here I am.”

You mock gasp. “So you really _were_ planning on robbing me! Well, now I don’t feel that bad about bashing your head in.”

You smirk when you see Shyster stiffen. Whirling on you, he seethes, “We have moved well and beyond that point, so drop it! Wait…” He finally registers what you said and crosses his arms, mask colored a bright pink. “At least you admit you started it.”

“Fight or flight, my dude, and I can’t run.”

Surprisingly, the rest of your meal is spent not talking about the next step in your journey, but rather about you and Shyster. Although the more you talk about your adventure alongside the blunt and brash Shy Guy, the more your heart aches, it’s...it’s still nice to speak freely about your odd friendship. Like he first brought up, who woulda thought that one Shy Guy would’ve become your best friend and your primary motivation for doing all _this_?

You don’t miss how Geno listens with rapt attention, offering genuine grins and smiles when no one else is looking in his direction. And the couple of times he notices that you notice, well, you’ve found you’re not a fan of the shame Geno’s had a perchance for showing lately.

So the next opportunity, you raise your voice and announce, “And I wouldn’t change a thing, even if I could.”

Geno startles, wide red eyes staring at you. You just grin in return, lowering yourself and wrapping an arm around Shyster’s comparatively tiny frame. Over the Shy Guy’s indignant noises, you reiterate, “This lil’ punk’s made everything worth it—even all those times I nearly biffed it for good, _aha_!”

The spirit inhales and you hurl a quick wink over at him—or at least you try to; you never were that good at winking. You’re not sure what expression his face morphs into, because you look away, joining in with everyone else’s cheer.

But if there’s something you are aware of, it’s Geno’s wooden face easing into a worn grin himself the next time you _do_ take a peek. Soon enough, he’s joined in with the cheery atmosphere around your dinner, even begrudgingly accepting all of Mario’s elbowing and nudging.

And as you offer Shyster a quick noogie, cackling alongside Bowser, you think back to Johnny and his words. _Don’t dwell, don’t dwell_...

You sincerely doubt you can actually do that, but for now, this is more than enough.

*** * * * * * ***

“Aww, c’mon, we already know I suck at namin’ things. _Please_…?”

“Aren’t _you_ the nerd who knows all about the water and names and stuff?” Shyster retorts, grunting when he mutes one of those fireball enemies. “Your new spell looks like a mini-storm—”

“But one of my spells is already Storm; I can’t have two different spells being called the same thing!”

Shyster hurls his mace at one of those massive, blocky enemies, smashing it’s stony face into smithereens. “Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things? Just pick somethin’ already and stop pestering me about it.”

You grumble a bit, casting your actual Storm spell underneath a few more of those fireballs - Sparkys, maybe? - and watch them dissipate into smoke. “The only things I can think up right now are boring, like ‘whirlpool,’ which is pretty lame in my opinion.” _Plus it’s already a Pokemon move, so_…

“Wow,” Shyster intones dryly, “even _you’re_ unimpressed by your awful naming skills? That’s a first.”

You click your tongue. “Rude.”

Slowly but surely, you whittle down the various monsters in your way as you delve deeper into Barrel Volcano. It’s already been a few hours since you’ve left the comparatively cooler and safer ‘inn,’ but it looks like you've got a ways to go yet. Certainly doesn’t help that you’ve also been looking for more hidden chests since you’re pretty sure there’s a bunch of frog coins to be found here.

“_Hyup_!” Mallow takes out his froggie stick - which is still a highly offensive item, regardless of its poor in-game stats - to whack one of those boulder-looking things. The small monster rockets off into a nearby crack, where it falls out of sigh and out of the fight.

“Nice one, little dude!” you say, to which the small prince beams.

“Thanks! I’m tryin’ to conserve my magic ‘cause ya said we’d be fighting a few tough guys in here.” He watches Bowser hurl an annoyed Mario at a nearby tree-stump-lookin’ thing, which actually ends up destroying it.

Turning back to you, he says, “Y’know, that new spell of yours is really strong; it looks like it could hit multiple foes at once—like my spells! If ya want, I could show you a thing or two about aimin’ it.”

You perk up. “Really? I—that’d be super helpful! I can barely aim my Water Blast, so…”

“‘S the least I can do after everythin’ you’ve done for me, Sharkbait!” And _oh_, your poor heart can’t handle how adorable his grin is. He even smacks his...chest, you guess, with spunk. “Speakin’ of which, your spell kinda reminds me of these things I’d see back at Grandpa’s pond...lessee, I think Gramps called ‘em waterspouts or something…?”

Hmm...aren’t waterspouts basically the equivalent of water-based tornadoes which occur over the open ocean due to turbulent drafts of wind...or something? And your spell does sorta function like one, since it causes you to hover…

You beam down at the Nimbian. “Yeah. Yeah! That’s—okay! From now on, that spell’s gonna be Waterspout! Thanks, Mallow!”

And dear lord, the boy’s smiles fill you with so much warmth, you’re surprised you’re not succumbing to another bout of heat sickness.

Even more surprising is how you really aren’t upchucking because of the heat, since you’re walking through caverns now filled with lava. And over Bower commenting how it “feels like home,” you’re quick to say that you’re nearing the end, to which everyone begins to hurry along with newfound determination.

Sure enough, a few cramped corridors and lava pits later, you arrive at a familiar room. If you aren’t mistaking, then—

A piercing screech breaks the lull. The roaring doesn’t stop, even as the massive pool of lava in front of you begins to shift like it’s alive. Then again, given the massive Czar Dragon that just burst into the open air, well, the lava probably was alive.

Despite how utterly goofy-looking the boss is, you can’t deny the trepidation rooting you in place. Or maybe it’s just plain fear; who knows. All you do know is that you are very much _not_ looking forward to this fight.

It’s red irises don’t move, but you can practically feel it’s googly eyes taking in your group. The pause lasts only a second or two before it rears back and you’re already scampering behind some nearby boulders.

Immediately after seeking cover does a blistering hot wave of heat blast throughout the stony platform. Thankfully, you successfully avoided the immediate damage—er, danger.

“A bit of a warning would’ve been nice!”

Shyster quietly seethes, having just sought cover behind the same boulder. Noticeably, his robes are sooty and still burning in some places. Patting out said flames, he peeks over at the Czar Dragon and curses. “Great. The thing’s made of lava, so I doubt my metal mace will do much. If only I still had a slingshot…”

This is the real world, and unfortunately lava melts metal...so he raises a good point.

Readying your offensive magic, you just shoot a wavering grin down. “Maybe...sit this one out? I dunno; we still gotta deal with the Axem Rangers after this, sooo...uh. A mace would be helpful for them.”

He scoffs, a bit irritably. “Understood.” But the watery-sounding phrase that leaks out next certainly doesn’t hide his contempt.

Luckily for everyone involved, the Czar Dragon isn’t too difficult of a fight. In the time it takes to cast a few Diamond Saws and even fewer Storms, the boss is already slowing down in its attacks. Then again, with this still being...six - or really five because the princess can’t do much to it - against one, of course the thing would go down quick. In-game, it wasn’t anything special...aside from the second phase. Right.

Your magic stores are still high when the thing shudders violently after a direct hit from Mallow’s Snowy. Soon after, it also lurches down as it about to drop out of the air.

“_Yahoo_!” the prince cheers, to which most others relax. “That wasn’t so bad—”

Fortunately, Geno sees you still standing with idle Diamond Saws. He returns his attention to the Czar Dragon and readies some of his own magic. “Be on guard; I don’t think we’re done here…!”

And it’s at that particular moment when you witness one of the most disturbing things you’ve ever seen with your two eyeballs. Because _holy shit_.

It comes as an uneasy surprise to find that when the Czar Dragon transforms into its skeletal second phase, the lava and flames making up its body are remarkably capable of mimicking flesh. That is to say, they slowly slide off its bones in grotesque chunks which splat against the pool of lava beneath it. Sounds like a wet paper bag exploding, _yeesh_.

You glance at the others and burst into nervous cackles when they don't seem to enjoy the transformation any more than you do.

Despite the abrupt glares thrown your way from Bowser, Mario, and even Geno, you snicker some more. “_A—ha_; that’s—that’s pretty, uh. Horrifying.”

Bowser glances back to the mostly skeletal dragon. “Uh, I think that’s an understatement, Sharkbait.”

“_Finally_!”

You turn like everyone else only to see Shyster vault out from behind the boulder, brandishing his mace. “I can deal with bones just...fine…!”

And the Shy Guy promptly leaps and smashes the spiked head into the Czar Dragons’ exposed skull. The force causes the mandible to break off in a similarly grotesque shower of blunt teeth; their general cartoony shape only makes it worse.

A sharp sound shortly follows the blow, courtesy of a blue line of plasma. Geno Beam, huh…? Hey; wait a sec! You can do something like that, too!

You rear back and hurl your Diamond Saws at the stationary dragon skeleton. Both hit their mark in a flurry of solidified magic: the thing’s skull.

And the one to top it all off? Mario, of course; he’s the main character. Given his status as jumpman, it makes sense he can easily leap, like, a dozen feet in the air to stomp both of his boots in the cracks of the boss’s skull, fracturing it further. With a final pounce, the plumber jumps back to your platform as the skeleton’s skull slowly but surely breaks apart.

Apparently, despite being something probably made of magic, destroying it’s skull also counts for the kill, since the rest of its skeleton falls apart shortly after.

Once every last fragment is swallowed up by the pool of lava underneath, you feel a faint shuddering rock the room. Then, a line of boulders spring up from the lava, forming a convenient way to the other end of the room, where an archway awaits.

“_Woo-hoo_!” You whoop. “Yo, that was sick!”

While most of the others seem confused as to what you just said, Geno offers you a wry grin. “And quick. Took care of the dragon without giving it the chance to retaliate.” He nods to himself, still smiling. “Now if only we could finish most fights like that…”

“Probably could if we jump ‘em before they have the chance to notice us,” Shyster says, hiking up his backpack. “Given how big our group is, I doubt we’ll ever get the opportunity.”

Of course, the goody-two-shoes of the group - basically everyone except Bowser and Geno, oddly enough - look a bit off put by the crass suggestion.

“Well, if we ever get the chance,” Geno begins, already turning around with a flourish of his cape, “we should take advantage of our enemies in any way we can. But for now, we have a Star Piece to collect.”

“Good ol’ Mr. Spirit,” Shyster quips besides you. “Least he’s learned to live a little. Y’know, besides his mission.”

Your lips fight to either frown or smile at the doll’s retreating back. “Yeah…it’s probably a good thing.” _Damn, why can’t you just be happy for the spirit instead of this, this stupid jealousy_? “I should probably take notes, _heh_.”

You limp behind the others, hating how difficult it is for you to hop from one steppingstone to the next. But soon enough you’ve successfully crossed the pool of lava without mishap, so it’s still a victory.

As expected, the next room is one with a tiny width but a tall height. Right; don’t you have to jump up a lot, through multiple corridors to make it out of the volcano and onto the Blade? You wonder if you’ll have enough FP in you to make it to the top, much less fight the Axem Rangers afterwards.

And suddenly you remember something you probably should’ve told everyone else, especially when you see the telltale red glow of the sixth Star Piece just...sitting there, just ripe for picking.

Just as Geno breathes a sigh of relief at the same moment Mario goes to retrieve it, you straighten, suddenly tense. The cavern’s too dark to see any conspicuously bright shades of red, yellow, green, or pink. Black would blend in just fine, though.

As is customary for _Super Mario RPG_, the titular character makes to do his fancy little animation for ‘get Star Piece.’ Which is also your cue.

Being slightly taller than the plumber, it isn’t too difficult to nearly trip over to him and swipe the Star Piece in one swift motion. You clutch onto the large magical artifact and press it against your torso, caging it in.

Geno’s the first to question you. “What was—?”

Aaand suddenly your feet are no longer on the ground.

“_Ha_! We got the Star—”

“Uh, Red, you also picked up somethin’ a bit...extra.”

Blinking, you crush the oversized Star Piece closer to you and struggle a bit. You dislodge yourself from your captor and fall directly onto your butt, hissing in both pain and surprise. The latter more so because, yup, a quick glance up shows all five of the Axem Rangers returning your stare.

Without another word, you scoot back and away from them...only to tip over the edge of the cliff you’re all standing - or sitting - on. Unwilling to let your grip loosen, you just hurl yourself off the cliff in the vain hope one of your allies below will catch you.

Unlike what their gleaming, steel bodies belie, the Axem Rangers are surprisingly quick.

All five make to catch you, with Red actually wrapping his free glove-like hand around your ankle. Additionally to being fast, they’re also pretty strong, if his holding you up single-handedly is any indication.

You slam your other foot into the cliff’s wall, conjuring a poorly aimed Storm beneath Red. While your prediction was correct in that his metallic body prevents him from getting flung upwards, you failed to account for how it’d affect you. Least to say, you weren’t expecting to start tumbling through the air, yelling and somersaulting all the while. Curse the fact you can’t aim your spell without your hands…!

But warm hands manage to catch you and—holy shit it’s _Mario_.

Feeling very, very small in the man’s grasp, you just curl around the Star Piece and glance down at the others—just in time to see Axem Black swoop in, planting his steel foot into Mario’s face.

Mario, stunned, falls back down while Black tucks you under his other arm. “If ya ain’t gonna hand over that Star, then you’ll just have to come with us!”

When Black finally jumps back up to the cliff, you attempt to slam your feet down to cast another spell - honestly, you were prepping a Water Blast - but can’t seem to reach. For some stupid reason, the Axem Rangers aren’t stumpy or blocky like their in-game counterpart; they frickin’ look like the Pokemon Bisharp or something. Point is, they have legs.

Sorta hating how the warmth of the Star Piece is _this_ close to giving you heatstroke, you grit out, “Put me down…!”

Instead, Pink coos, “Aw look; they’re struggling! If you just gave up that Star—”

You just press the artifact closer until it’s digging uncomfortably into your ribs. Hoping you’re far away enough from the others, you let your anger at the general heat and fatigue of the day’s travels fuel your next words. “Fuck you!”

Both Black and Red snort in amusement, not realizing how lucky they are you don’t have a clear conduit for your magic. After all, Johnny said if there’s no conduit, the chances of an internal implosion are high, so...again, these pricks are lucky.

“Hey, Red,” the Yellow Ranger starts, slow and uncaring, “isn’t that the seer?”

Said Ranger just leans on his axe, giving you an appraising look. “Huh, now that you mention it, I’m pretty sure it is. Something about stripes, right?” _Really_? _Your fashion taste is the giveaway_?

It’s then when you realize that, during your last spell, your bandana was blown off. Seized with fear, you glance down at the others, thankfully seeing the red cloth in Shyster’s grip. You nearly let out a sigh of relief before realizing your Safety Badge is also attached to that bandana.

Red goes on, unperturbed by your stillness. “Talk about two nails with one blow! Hey Green—you know what to do!”

Whatever spell Green casts results in a few notes and—he muted you, didn’t he?

...yeah. Yeah, he did. Asshole.

While Red’s mouth...hole, pipe thing doesn’t move, his eyes certainly give the impression of a sly grin. “I’m sure the boss will love this! If we hand both of these over, he’ll be sure to let us do whatever we want instead of lame missions like these. C’mon; to the Blade!”

And that’s how you’re unanimously taken as a hostage, holding onto the red Star Piece like a lifeline. Because let’s face it; you having no magic and no stamina means you’re completely at their mercy.

Thankfully, the others have caught on to the in-game script as they hop and climb up the various platforms in order to give chase. In the meantime, you refuse to laxen your hold on the Star Piece.

Before you know it, the stifling air of Barrel Volcano gives way to the smoky air outside its rim. The abrupt shift from hot to chilly might also have to do with the _massive_ shadow of the Axem Ranger’s ship, hovering menacingly.

Black, still carding you around like a sack of potatoes, practically hurls you onto the deck once he’s finished clamoring up the Blade’s hull. You quietly seethe but remain curled around the Star Piece, glaring up at the Axem Rangers. They converse loudly amongst themselves, Yellow even going into what looks like the captain’s quarters. You test to see if your mute status has lifted—and your magic responds, albeit faintly.

Good enough.

Since you hear your teammates’ voices over the sputtering of the ship’s engines, you figure it’s now or never. Preemptive strikes haven’t worked before, but it can’t hurt to try…!

Green is busy peeking over the edge. “H-hey Red, uh...it looks like Mario and his gang have already caught up.”

Red just _tsks_. “Looks like we have no choice but to engage. Pink, ready the Breaker Beam. Black, why not stop playing around and tie up stripes over there.”

“Roger,” two voices pipe up at the same time you slam both hands onto the wooden planks of the deck.

Your aim is solely on Axem Green, who has no chance to defend against the small but no less turbulent Waterspout that you summon underneath him. Regardless of his metallic weight, your magic proves rampant enough that the spell still does what you intend: flings the skinniest Ranger off the ship entirely.

Your joy is short lived when Red curses something and the next thing you know, your vision is swirling. Your tongue also refuses to cooperate, but you’re faintly aware of someone else dragging your body. That and the warmth from the Star Piece leaves your side, but since everyone else is practically here you figure it’s okay.

Turns out your guess is pretty spot on, considering the immediate ruckus that ensues after your teammates jump onto the deck. Through the throbbing headache, you also hear Bowser hollering about his “new and improved” Koopa Troop, if only ‘cause “the princess is on my side, _gwar har har_!”

The Axem Rangers also do their little introduction a la Team Rocket. You kinda wish your vision wasn’t swimming too much because they sound so goddang loony. Then again, this is still the _Mario_-verse.

Then you hear nothing but metal on metal and the laser-like sounds of magic being hurled about.

“Jeez, and here I was thinkin’ you’d maybe be unscathed when we caught up.”

“...dude, I am _sick_ and _tired_ of getting my clock cleaned.”

“Karma works in mysterious ways,” Shyster snorts, hands working away on the ropes binding your arms. Once they fall, he adds, “Considering your record, I’m also surprised you didn’t make friends after _this_ kidnapping.”

“Oh, yeah, no.” He helps you sit up and shoves a Honey Syrup into your hands. You gulp it down and feel immediately better. He doesn’t wait to hand over your bandana, which you quickly replace around your neck. “Thanks for that. Now, let’s go...I dunno, beat the crap outta these guys, I guess.”

Shyster dryly remarks, “I seem to recall you calling _me_ a thug earlier. My, how the tables have turned.”

And after he also helps you stand upright, he says, “Alright, I’m done humoring you. Now, what’s up with these guys?”

You give Shyster a quick and sloppy explanation detailing how the Axem Rangers are essentially clones made to mimic the other five. Quick and sloppy mainly because you pepper your words with random exclamations as you hurl a Diamond Saw or two at one of the Rangers.

Pink lets out a startled gasp when Shyster sends her flying with a wound-up swing of his mace. “Gotcha; I’ll go let the others know. Stay back and do your thing. And _don’t overexert yourself_.”

You click your tongue in response to his slitted eye holes. “Okay, okay, _yeesh_. Cut me some slack. ‘S not like I’m gonna keel over anytime soon.”

You think you hear him “why do I bother,” but let it slide when he darts into the fray, sidling close to the other melee fighters to pass on your info. It also helps that you cry out said info - particularly on aiming for the Pink first because healer - during your castings. You also make mention of getting Green outta the way; well, when he decides to rejoin the rest of his crew. You doubt you actually got rid of him for good.

Axem Green does end up leaping into the battlefield, but he’s wholly unprepared before he’s slammed into by Bowser. It’s actually pretty funny, because he gets hurled into both Axem Red and Black. And like bowling pins, the trio of them fall to the deck in a mess of limbs and weapons, eyes spinning.

“_Argh_! You losers keep breaking formation!” Red pries himself from under Black, hoisting himself up with his axe. “But whatever; the Breaker Beam should be ready by now. Axem Rangers, _second formation_!”

You watch as he leaps for the Breaker Beam with anxiety rippling through you. Try as you might, none of your spells could damage the outer metal plating of the...face-like cannon, you guess. Point is, you couldn’t destroy it before it could see use.

“That thing fires in a straight line, I’m pretty sure,” you say to no one in particular. “And I’d uh, advise avoiding it.”

“No, really,” Bowser deadpans from behind you. “But is it really that bad?”

“Uhh...it’s...well, it’s gnarly from what I can recall, at least.”

Mallow then asks, “If it’s magically based, then anyone with an Amulet will probably be fine…”

“Just...just try to dodge it. Please.” You bite your lip, watching the cannon gather energy until it’s red eyes light up. Well, you guess Red was right about it powering up fully. “I-I’m—I don’t know everything, but better safe than sorry, yuh-yeah?”

Surprisingly, it’s Toadstool who pipes up with the best advice. “So we should spread out and make it harder for him to hit us, right?” But she doesn’t follow up, instead using the lull in the battle to wash her warm healing magic over the rest of you. _Group Hug, huh_? Feels...nice.

Before anyone else can add on, a shrill screech of machinery drowns you out. The Breaker Beam’s mouth is glowing, gathering energy whilst the Axem Rangers stand off to the sides.

“Alright!” Axem Red announces gleefully. “Force beam’s energized; maximum charge to boot! _Now_! Time to fire the _Breaker_—!”

You’re barely able to bleat out a yelp when you trip in an attempt to get out of the way, keenly aware of the cannon pointed directly at you. So when the Breaker Beam actually fires, you just curl up and try to emulate a piece of paper against the deck. Luckily, it seems to work, because the searing white energy barely grazes your cheek. Still hurts, but hey; ‘s not like you just got obliterated.

Once the blinding attack disperses, you look around. A quick glance shows Shyster ducking besides you and Mallow...fusing together after doing his little bisection thing to dodge. Unfortunately, you spot both Mario and Bowser singed and coughing a bit, looking worse for wear.

As you get back up on your feet, you manage to advise, “It takes time for it to recharge; now’s our chance!”

Just as you hoped, your teammates shake it off before jumping back into battle, to which the Axem Rangers meet them with flinging spells and clangs of metal.

Unlike in-game, Axem Red doesn’t stay put on the Breaker Beam. Instead he jumps off and immediately engages one rowdy plumber.

Keeping with the theme of them being made to directly contend with the main party, everyone somehow ends up tussling with their mimic. Except for Toadstool; instead, both you and Shyster have gone after Axem Pink because you’d rather your medic stay out of the main combat.

Thrusting you arm out, you cast a Storm under her feet as Shyster winds up his mace. Once your magic dissipates, Pink is caught unaware as the spiked weapon slams into her face.

“_Argh_! My makeup! It’s running…!” she hisses, wiping at her lashes. “I’ll make you pay for that…!”

Despite being in the middle of a battle, you still hear Red quip “change brands next time!” across the deck. Unable to help yourself, you snort which elicits a muffled groan from Shyster and an irate huff from Pink. Despite your amusement, you continue your casting. After all, you’re pretty sure Pink’s got impressive magic defense, so your spells are just a smokescreen for Shyster’s mace.

Also unlike in-game, she actually uses her fancy halberd-axe thing. Which essentially translates to you nearly losing an arm when she rushes you. Sure, you stumbled back in fright and retaliated with a Water Blast to her face, but that was pretty close.

You feel genuine relief when, after one mace hit too many, Pink slumps down to the ground, unconscious.

“Alrighty,” you sigh, wiping your sweaty palms on your shirt. “I’ve got half the mind to hurl her off with a Waterspout—”

Something heavy and _hard_ slams into your back, sending you skipping across the planks.

Shyster curses as you struggle to see what—or who hit you, you guess. Because Axem Black is standing above you, sick sunglasses glinting almost ominously in the sunset.

“‘Fraid I can’t let ya do that, stripes,” he states, twirling his weapon. “Looks like there’s been a change in plans. So—” He raises his axe. “—looks like it’s our win, _seer_.”

Even if you had a Water Blast ready to go, you still flinch when both an orange circlet and spiked mace impact Black’s head. He stutters and stumbles, readjusting his glasses before turning to see both Shyster and Geno with _very_ intimidating glares etched into their features.

But then the doll abruptly stops his advance to shift in a series of muted _clicks_ and _clunks_. Wait a sec, is that—? It sure is!

You don’t hesitate to shift your magic into a Storm, which you immediately cast under Black’s unaware feet. You make it extra strong by putting a bit more oomph into it, since you’re like 90% sure he has little magic defense. If his abrupt cry of pain is any indication, you’re probably right.

“Shyster!” You stumble back up and limp out of the way. “Swing down this time!”

The Shy Guy doesn’t reply, only grunting as he hefts his weapon up. After a quick wind up, he leaps up and you release your spell.

Shyster’s mace makes a pleasing _TWANG_ sound when it slams into Axem Black’s head. As you wanted, the hit is strong enough to also break the wooden planks under the Ranger’s foot, essentially trapping him in the Blade’s deck.

With much anticipation, you stagger off to the side and motion for Shyster to follow you. You nudge him toward where Geno is currently resting as a makeshift _cannon_, searing red energy gathering in his nozzle. “Oh boy,” you start, unable to quell your joy, “here comes Geno Flash…!”

You kinda know what to expect, but actually seeing - _and_ feeling, ‘cause you're a mage now - a magically produced sun propel itself from Geno’s cannon form is something, alright. It’s even more intimidating when it practically implodes after directly hitting a struggling Axem Black, swamping the deck in destructive magic.

Once the smoke dissipates, Black is no longer struggling. Instead, he’s lying unconscious against the nearby staircase. Huh, must’ve been blown back.

“Are you alright?”

You turn and just slap on a weary grin. “Yup! Thanks to both you and Shyster. Also, that was _awesome_, just so you know.”

Geno just gives a half-smile in return before looking to see how the others are doing. But you watch him freeze up before a venomous glare contorts his eyes, red irises glinting. He stalks forward and you follow his line of sight—oh. That’s not good.

Judging by the fact everyone else apparently took care of the other Axem Rangers, it’s jarring to see Red standing above the similarly colored Star Piece, pointed tip of weapon just shy of impaling it.

Even if he’s clearly struggling to remain upright, he seethes, “This Star Piece gives people hope…! It needs to be destroyed if Smithy is to rule this pathetic world!”

“Don’t you dare,” Geno growls, hands shifting into guns. He actually steps forward, but his footfalls are shaky. He’s actually...struggling a bit. That’s...concerning. Was it the fight? Barrel Volcano? Maybe even that spell...? Hell, _you’re_ in better shape and that’s saying something.

Your attention is quickly drawn to the groaning and shifting bodies of the other Axem Rangers. Gotta end this quick—

_Crack_!

You watch in subdued horror as Red impales the Star Piece, severing it into five parts which immediately lose their glow. Geno’s expression goes from wrath to abject terror before scrambling over to the shards, signature magic gathering around him.

Axem Red doesn’t wait to hop behind the Breaker Beam and aim the thing at where Geno’s currently hunched over the broken Star Piece—directly in front of you.

“This should do the trick…!” Red snarls. “Breaker Beam, _activate_!”

It’s a longshot, but you try anyway.

Before the blistering heat from the beam can hit either Geno or the Star Pieces in his arms, you summon a fairly strong Storm under him. Your spell does what you intend: rockets him and his precious cargo up into the air.

This, unfortunately, leaves you in the line of fire. And boy, does the Breaker Beam _hurt_.

When the blinding light leaves, it’s a bit of a mercy. Your exposed skin feels like it’s still on fire, and if your mouth wasn’t similarly seared you’d have no doubts you’d be screaming in pain. Instead, only a rattling hiss escapes as you hunch in on yourself.

Still, you watch as Geno manages to land on his feet, still carding around the Star Pieces. His feverish eyes glance back at you but that’s all you’re able to surmise before both Mallow and Toadstool fill your vision. The familiar warmth of the princess’s healing spell stifles your lingering pain, and the cooling sensation of the prince’s version rids your burns.

“Thu—” You cough. “Thanks.”

“_Ha_! Seems like the seer’s abiding by their nature after all!”

Mallow and Toadstool help you back onto your feet, but everyone’s attention is on Axem Red.

He gloats a bit more, and in spite of talking about you, he refuses to look anywhere but at Geno. “Just like what the boss said; a weapon made by the Star Road to protect the Star Pieces! Too bad you were too slow, but it was a good attempt—”

“_Shut up_!”

You all turn to Geno, who’s hunched over the fragments of the Star Piece. His voice is all venom but his face is still undiluted fear. “Don’t speak of things you don’t understand!” Surprisingly, the spirit glances back at you when he says this.

And you—you don’t know what your face is doing, but it’s enough to cause Geno to curl in on himself further. You still don’t think guilt is a good look for the doll.

But Axem Red doesn’t stop, instead extending his attention to you. “How does it feel, knowing you’re no different than us? Speaking of which, hurry it up, Rangers! We’ve basically won already!”

The last parts are aimed at his fellow Rangers, some of which are actually back onto unsteady feet.

“What?” Red continues, mockingly. “Don’t like having the obvious pointed out, stripes? I mean, according to what Smithy had to say, you were the perfect guy to turn into an errand boy. Besides, not like you anything else going for you—”

Your hearing goes out, lost to your frantic heartbeat. And your magic—

Flinging you arms out, currents of your turbulent magic apparate and surround every Axem Ranger. It’s too strong to fight against, but you’ve barely any control of it either.

Even if you are its conduit, you can only watch with some hidden glee as your spell manifests as a massive Waterspout. And caught inside are the Axem Rangers, whose yells can barely be heard over the whipping winds.

You square your shoulders and slam your foot down with a flourish.

All five of the Rangers are immediately forced down, your spell propelling them into the Breaker Beam and further, shattering both the weapon and the planks of the Blade’s deck. A heated explosion soon follows, waves of flame dispersed into the remnants of your spell.

And you—your vision blanks white, then back again to see the ship rumbling.

Belatedly, you’re able to feel your body lurch as you impact the deck yourself. Shyster’s mask shoves itself into your face, but you can’t hear him.

_Magic exhaustion again, huh_…?

Your eyes shut on their own accord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for lateness. Enjoy 11,000+ words because I have no chill.
> 
> Kinda rushed through Barrel Volcano, but I think you'll forgive me because the next chapter is...**oof**™.
> 
> Hope you like it!


	19. Deluge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader and Geno have a talk. Alternative title: the beach episode (even if the beach scene isn't until the end).

Blearily, you open your eyes.

“About time,” Shyster’s deadpan voice echoes above you. He shifts a bit. “And just in time, too.”

Your response is as brilliant as it possibly could be, given you woke up not even a minute ago. “_Ba-whuh_…?”

Then again, the reason why you can’t seem to form any words might have to do with all the drool that escapes as soon as you open your mouth. Clumsily, you attempt to wipe the stuff away but end up slapping yourself. Stiiill waking up, it seems. Least you tried.

Chin covered in slobber and eyes blinking separately, you gather the energy to look more closely at Shyster. You end up snorting and drooling some more when you notice his normally stoic mask is twitching between his eye holes.

“_Ugh_, forgot how gross you are in the mornings.” He shifts some more and soon enough he slaps a tissue over your face. “Clean yourself up _properly_.”

Slowly but surely joining the living, you quip, “Aw, c’mon, the tongue is just nature’s napkin, right?”

“You’re lucky you’re recovering,” he begins, tone threatening but not really, “otherwise I’d smack some sense into you.”

You muster a laugh and Shyster just sighs ruefully, but clearly in high spirits now that you’ve woken up to being your dumb self. Unable to help yourself, you make a few more comments about how this time you weren’t stabbed beforehand or had your head crack open again.

“‘Again?’” His tone demands an explanation and you humor him, expunging how the Shy Away naively hinted at said injury, to which Shyster repeats, “‘Leaking’...yeah, that’s a Shy Guy who’s never seen a human before.” It’s his turn to snort. “What a dolt.”

“Aww, I thought it was cute. Plus it’s always fun to discuss anatomy and physiology! Did I ever tell you he’s a horticulture nerd?”

Shyster offers yet another of his famous deadpan looks. “I didn’t understand half of the words you just used, which means you’re finally up and running. So—”

He hops off his stool and waits for you to get out of the fluffy bed you’ve been deposited in. Speaking of fluffy, seems like you’re currently in Nimbus Land, if all the clouds making up the floor and furniture are anything to go by. Huh. How’d they bring you back here?

You fumble to slip on your shoes, but you hurry to Shyster’s side before following him out the room.

“So, uh.” You hesitate briefly before gathering what little courage you have. Considering you still haven’t fully woken up, it’s pretty easy to do; can’t second-guess yourself if you’re tired!

“You’re not...you don’t wanna ask about, um, what Axem Red said…?”

A pause, filled with nothing but the high chirps of the tweetybirds in their cages. Nimbus Land’s castle, then.

Shyster sighs. “Look,” he starts, tone betraying both a bone-deep fatigue and disquiet. “I’m not gonna deny I’ve been thinking about it. But again, it’s not so much what _he_ said as opposed to how _you_ reacted.”

‘Excessively violently’ hangs in the open air, despite remaining unsaid.

He halts and you soon follow. You wait with bated breath until he looks up at you, mask unmoving. “The question here is: do you want my honest opinion? Do you wanna actually hear what I have to say?”

You wonder yourself. You—you’re still far, far too much of a coward to tell him about...about _you_. Which then makes you feel like shit for lying again and again and _again_ to your best friend; can you even call him that? After everything you’ve hidden and continue to hide? Are you friends? You...you’re doing this for him, so _why_—

A hand presses itself against your thigh. You offer Shyster a pained look.

“Sorry. Sorry,” you blubber, “just...wondering if I have the right to call you my friend.”

The scoff he lets loose is hoarse, but his slanted eyes showcase his frustration. “Please. And here I was thinkin’ we’ve already been over this too many times to count before. But, again, we’re in this together. We’re _partners_, circumstances be damned.”

You open your mouth to retort but he just taps your thigh in a mock slap. “No, I’m not done. The point I’m trying to make is simple: I trust you. Which means I trust you and your decision to not discuss these sorts of things with me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m only interested because these things seem to harm _you_. And since you’re my friend, I don’t wanna see that, so of course I’m gonna try and butt in if it means helping you.”

Cheeks colored a faint pink, Shyster crosses his arms but doesn’t avert his eyes. “‘Course that doesn’t mean I’m gonna demand anything from you. Kinda like you’ve never even bothered to question me or my background, which is pretty dumb on your part, honestly.”

You blink stupidly. Who knew warm, fuzzy feelings could disperse so quickly? “Whu-_what_? Why’s that?”

Still blushing, he explains, “I threatened to rob you the first time we met, and I’ve proven _many_ times that my character has some...less than savory traits. You’ve even made comments about me being a thug or whatever, and y’know what? There’s some truth to that. But for some inexplicable reason, you’ve never cared, much less about the circumstances which led me down that path.

“So,” he huffs, “to reiterate: you’re a bit naive to not give a damn when your best bud is criminal, for lack of a better term.”

“Oh.”

You pause and ruminate on it before shrugging. “I-I mean, I...don’t care…? Wait; that sounds, um, like I don’t care o-or—but I do! Just, just not like...uhhh, y’know…” You exhale through your nose, long and drawn. “Just...just give me a sec. I’m trying, I swear.”

You can practically taste the incredulousness in the air when you finally say, “I’m not gonna lie; I never really cared about you being a thief, or criminal, or whatever. All I cared about was, was…” _C’mon, say it_! _You already did before_! “I just wanted—_needed_ someone else. I—”

You bite your lip, hating how you can feel the familiar burning behind your eyes. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You won’t be; not now or anytime soon, for that matter.”

You can only muster the smallest of smiles before it caves in on itself. You can’t even bring yourself to meet Shyster’s gaze when you nod, unwilling to address the lingering truth. After all, both he and you know that your time here is coming to an end soon.

“Thank you,” you murmur, putting as much sincerity as you can into the words. “Thank you for staying.”

Shyster makes an odd sound, but it doesn’t stop him from replying in kind, “You made me want to stay. And if anything, I got my first friend outta it, so thank _you_.”

A beat. Before long, small giggles fill the silence and you revel in them as much as you can. The moment is brief, but considering how little you have left, it might as well be staggeringly long.

When Shyster sighs again, you can’t help but wonder why your stomach drops the way it does.

He’s staring up at you, yet you’re the one who feels comparatively small. His next words provide context to the alien sensations. “So, I’ll reiterate: do you want to hear my personal thoughts on _your_ circumstances?”

You laugh again, but there’s no cheer. “Can’t let it slide, huh?”

His voice is remarkably calm and quiet. “Not when it’s clearly upsetting you this much, no. And you’re giving me the impression my asking isn’t what’s bothering you.”

“You’re right.” He perks up a bit and you further explain, “It’s just...hard. I only have so much time left and I—I don’t want to...y’know...” You have _no_ idea where you were going with that, but maybe he’ll connect dots that aren’t actually there?

“I think you should talk to someone.”

You pause, question in your eyes when you exchange stares with Shyster. He doesn’t immediately reply, glancing away before he hunches his shoulders. He repeats, “I think you should talk to someone. And honestly? I think it’s Geno you should talk with.”

Your eyes widen, unable to hide your confusion, to which he exhales. Quietly, he says, “Look, now it’s _my_ turn to be honest; I’m not an idiot. I know you and him have unfinished business, and I think it’d do you some good. At least, more good than I probably could do at any rate. He knows all about your predicament, so there’s that. A new perspective would just be an added bonus.”

Stalling, you watch a nearby cage and the pair of tawny birds inside. They chirp merrily away, unaware of the weight settling upon your shoulders. _Speak to Geno, huh_...

“I mean, you’re not wrong…” Your lips shift from side to side. “It’s just...hmm...it’d be pretty awkward…”

“Doubt it.” Upon your questioning look, Shyster explains, “I’ve been keeping tabs on Mr. Spirit, and it seems like he’s...well, he’s obviously not as enthralled with completing his mission as he was in the beginning. And no, I doubt his procrastination is solely for your benefit. And taking his circumstances into account, especially with how he’s described himself before…”

Shyster pauses. “Seems like he’s not particularly fond of going back to a complete Star Road.”

...okay, you’ve _gotta_ hear the reasoning behind _this_.

The Shy Guy offers you another deadpan stare. Must’ve said that out loud. But he doesn’t comment on that, instead answering you. “I’ve done some snooping, and y’know what? He’s a low-ranking spirit, one who’s apparently one of the few inclined toward violence. He’s inhabited a makeshift body for months now, made friends with the others, learned what it’s like to live like we do, and as we get closer and closer to gathering all the Star Pieces, he’s stalling _willfully_. You’ll see what I mean by that soon enough.

“Point is, I think Geno’s afraid of losing what he’s gained down here,” Shyster finishes, sounding sure of himself.

You think it over and, in spite of your general obliviousness, you find yourself agreeing with him. Geno has been more withdrawn lately, and you doubt _you’re_ the sole reason for that...

“So you want me to talk with him because we’re...kinda similar, in that regard,” you state, to which Shyster nods.

You nod, too. “Okay. I can see that. I-I’ll try it.” A pause. “...thanks for trusting me.”

Gruffly, Shyster just shrugs and huffs a bit. “‘S what I’m here for.” His cheeks darken just a smidge when he _tsks_, remarking, “I don’t know whether to be glad or irate by how oblivious you are at times.”

Bewildered, you stutter out another fit of giggles. When Shyster joins in with a few belated snorts of amusement, you can’t help but laugh a bit harder.

Peering down at a still-blushing Shyster, you comment, “Too early for feelings?”

He shrugs and tilts his head away, flustered. “Too early for feelings.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about the Shy Guy, it’s that he shares the basic tendencies of his species, contrary to your first impression. Timid trouble-maker? Not really, but a thief is close enough. Shy? Actually, yeah; only when it comes to his personal feelings, though. In essence: he’s _adorable_.

...hopefully you’ll take your adoration for Shy Guys to your grave.

“Well, now that we’ve had yet another arduous talk, let’s get going to where we’re supposed to,” Shyster announces.

And just like that, the tension is lifted as you limp besides your friend through the familiar but still confusing halls of Nimbus Land’s castle. Maybe it’s because of your surroundings, but you feel a lot lighter than you did earlier.

*** * * * * * ***

Shyster leads you to some common room on the upper floor of the palace, where everyone else is gathered—including King and Queen Nimbus.

It’s their son who first sees you push aside the tapestry over the entryway. “Oh, Sharkbait! You’re up! How’re you feelin’?”

You shrug a bit and admit, “Still a bit sore, honestly. But, uh, otherwise I’m pretty fine. Like, I’ve got most of my magic, sooo there’s that.”

Mallow beams and motions to his parents, who sit in one of the couches besides him. “See! They’re pretty tough; they even saved me and my friends before, too! And they’re a pretty strong mage, so maybe you could teach ‘em something.”

The king just twirls his mustache and bellows a good-natured laugh. “Is that so? _Hoh ho_! I thought I sensed something about them when we met previously. Speaking of which…” He beckons you with a hand, motioning to the variety of seats centered around a table. Upon closer inspection, the five fragments of the red Star Piece are strewn over it. “—come! Have a seat and be merry! We’ve much to discuss.”

“What my husband is trying to say, dear,” Queen Nimbus intrudes, “is that you’re likely able to help us and your friend restore this Star Piece.”

Well, that certainly gets your attention. And everyone else’s too, considering the wide stares you’re receiving from Mario, Toadstool, and Bowser. Oddly enough, Geno doesn’t look too surprised, just...weary. Shameful.

You mentally sigh. _Really now_…

“Well,” you start, a bit unsure of what to do with this information, “it’s no biggie—er, I-I mean, glad to be of service, your maje—majesties.”

Queen Nimbus offers you a plaintive smile and pats the open space next to her. You oblige, plopping onto the cloudy seat with a bounce. Your new seat gives you a perfect view of Geno, whose expression hasn’t really changed. If anything, he’s sorta avoiding looking at you. Noticing this trend is also Shyster, who catches your eye from his seat on the other side of the table, besides Bowser.

“Now that we’ve all gathered,” the queen begins, voice soft yet forceful, “I believe it’s time to remedy what has been wronged. But perhaps I should explain how we plan to fix the Star Piece.”

She looks over at Geno, who returns her inquisitive stare. “Dear, you are an emissary from the Star Road, yes?”

He nods. “That’s correct, yes.”

The queen then glances at you. “And you—you were chosen to be of service for the Star Road as well, were you not?”

You don’t miss how Geno shifts uncomfortably in your peripherals. A quick glance even shows him opening his mouth to argue against the truth. Before he can spit out anything, you affirm, “Pretty muc—yes, your majesty.”

She huffs a laugh, commenting you don’t need to continue with the formalities. Hoping your embarrassment isn’t being broadcast too much with how hot your cheeks feel, you simply wait for the queen to continue her explanation, because boy do you have no idea what’s going on.

“Although I’ve been informed that you are a seer, it seems like you’re at a loss right now, correct?” You nod quickly, eagerly awaiting more lore. But she turns back to Geno, inquiring, “And though you are a spirit, it appears you are a low-ranking one. Am I wrong?”

Geno wilts just a tad at his status, but begrudges a sigh. “Yes, that’s also true. Can I ask how you know?”

But instead it’s the king who heaves another hearty laugh, deep voice echoing about the chamber. “_Ho ho_, I suppose it’s time for a history lesson! Of our fair kingdom and our ties to both the heavens and the surface!”

King Nimbus leans forward and, after winking at his wife who merely smiles in response, he begins. “You see, the Nimbus Land you currently reside in is merely a fraction of our lands; the capital, as it were. In truth, we span the entirety of the skies, serving as a conduit between the heavens - which includes the Star Road - and the surface below.”

“A conduit?” Toadstool exchanges a glance with Mario. “For what?”

King Nimbus’s mustache twitches in amusement. “Why, for magic, of course!”

“Actually, I heard a little bit about this,” you say, to which the king leans forward in interest. Shrugging, you admit, “I-I mean, I only heard a bit through a Sling Shy and the Shy Away—uh, royal gardener, but...Nimbus Land was close to the Star Road, which is considered the birthplace of magic as a whole, right?”

Both the king and queen nod, and you go on. “W-well, they sorta...I dunno, said something about how Nimbians learned magic due to the close proximity, and then passed it onto the surface-dwellers a long, long time ago...or something. Didn’t really understand the specifics.”

“Hmm...not bad, not bad!” The king nods a few times. “Although shortened quite a bit, that sums up our history well enough. But it neglects how magic born on the surface has differed immensely from ours up here—and that’s not even addressing how different the first magic from the heavens is, _bah ha ha_!”

“‘First’...?” Mallow crosses his arms and asks what everyone else is probably wondering. “Ma, Pa, jus’ how many magics are there? And what makes ‘em special? I mean, my magic feels a lot different than Geno’s or Sharkbait’s, but it’s also different compared to Mario’s and the princess’s…”

The king sniffs, murmuring something along the lines of “my boy…so smart!” before regaining his composure. “Er, well, you’ve already figured it out! Simplified, the first magic is exactly that: the first form of magic. Typically powerful, no element, difficult to control, and extends beyond the boundaries of space and time in certain circumstances...hence why we refer to them as ‘the heavens’ instead of a singular place.”

Here, the king gives both you and Geno a pointed look. “These two possess the first magic. Ah, but I’m not very good with that stuff. Honey, am I correct?”

“Indeed you are,” the queen replies with a giggle. “You see, we of Nimbus Land have a magic that is the intermediate between the first magic and the newest magic. We diverged into the natural elements, most likely attributed to our relation to the weather—our kingdom is in the clouds, after all! But then it diverged even further once upon the surface; healing, infliction of various ailments, all this in addition to inheriting our elemental-typings.”

“Why, I do believe the original propagators of fire and lightning magic built their temples just over yonder in the Beanbean Kingdom,” King Nimbus muses. “Ah, but that was such a long time ago, back when magic was…”

Here the queen heaves a sigh, to which her husband lovingly rubs her shoulder. What’s—

The queen turns to you. “Mallow told us you were lost in the basement of the palace. And during your trek, I’m sure you uncovered a variety of...obscure magical artifacts, many of them offensive.”

You think about the scepter that Sling Shy took and nod. “Yeah…”

“Our ancestors attempted to weaponize magic for...ill-intended purposes,” the queen explains. Shaking her head, she says, “We did not wish for magic to be used as such, hence our attempts to hide from the surface for fear of one discovering the weapons hidden beneath. A war with magic...unfathomable. Even so…”

She sighs. “It seems like there are times when such extremes are necessary. Why else would the Star Road send one of their own to gather their broken pieces? Or why force the first magic onto a normal human if not to weaponize them?”

Holy _shit_, so all those trinkets could’ve led to, like, the sky kingdom razing the surface a la _Castle in the Sky_…? And her comparing Geno and you to those things, like you’re just...tools for the Star Road...

You manage to exchange a look of malcontent with Geno. But then your eyes drift over everyone else, finally falling onto Shyster.

...he said he’s not going anywhere. Then everything up to this point—

“Does fate exist?”

You’re unsure of who you’re asking, but the varied looks of surprise and confusion marring the other’s faces suggest they don’t know. Geno in particular looks alarmed by your question, so much so you can’t stand to look at him. Your stare eventually finds Shyster, who returns it stoically.

Faintly, you recall your conversation back in Booster Tower, how you both mocked fate. But now…

You see something flicker in the queen’s expression before she calms herself. Sighing, she suggests, “I don’t know about that, but I _do_ believe there are circumstances which are always available, and it is what we _choose_ to do with them that may make a difference.”

...that actually makes you feel a _lot_ better. So much so you can’t stop a smile from forming. “...okay. Thanks.”

She smiles softly. “It is of no concern, dear. Now—”

Queen Nimbus stands alongside her husband, who then beckon you and Geno to do the same. The four of you gather around the table, where the broken Star Piece rests.

“Our royal heritage serves us well,” the king remarks, staring at the dull fragments.

“We will serve as the conduits for your magic,” the queen explains, clasping hands with her husband and motioning for you to mimic the motion. Once you’ve entwined your hands with Geno and her, she says, “As a piece of the Star Road, it’s magic is necessary to restore it, therefore we require those capable of conjuring the first magic. It will be arduous, but luckily there are two of you to help.”

All in all, it’s both surprising and reassuring that the broken Star Piece can be mended. And conveniently, yours and Geno’s combined FP or magic stores or whatever are more than enough to pulse through the king and queen, who redirect the latent energy into the fragments.

The five pieces begin to hover, spin a bit, maybe even do a little jig—actually no, but they refuse pretty quickly. With a brilliant flash of scarlet, the Star Piece drifts to the table, now whole and alight as it should be.

And not a second too soon, because you quickly flop back onto the couch, as tired as you were when you woke up not even an hour ago. Geno does the same across from you. At least the two of you manage weary grins when Mario stands to collect the Star Piece in his usual, flamboyant fashion.

Soon enough, everyone disperses after a quick reconciliation, off to do their own things. Odd...

A small poke demands your attention.

“In case you were wonderin’, Geno suggested we take the next couple of days off,” Mallow says, answering Shyster’s earlier comment and the current phenomenon. With a grin, the prince also describes how the royal transportation is ready to go whenever, hence Geno’s lack of qualms with staying put. It was also how you woke up in Nimbus Land despite biffing it on the Blade. “I mean, I’d like to rest a bit more. Think it’d do us all a favor, _heh_.”

“And as our esteemed guests, you are welcome to do so,” the queen muses playfully, standing above you. She even pats Mallow’s head, chastising, “Now I thought you said you wished your father would teach you how to properly control your strongest spell…”

“Oh, that’s right!” Mallow’s quick to hop up and off the couch, waving you a quick goodbye as he trails to the door where his father waits. They leave, chatting away and clearly joyful.

Similarly, you watch Mario and Toadstool drift out of the room together, Bowser hot on their heels. Odder yet is seeing Geno drag himself upright, only to exchange a few muted words with Shyster.

But then the queen blocks them from view, opting to offer you a hand. You stand but she doesn’t release your hand. You don’t like the look on her face.

She purses her lips for a brief moment before whispering, “Dear…” But she trails off, clearly unsure of what to say.

You decide to fill in the blanks for her.

“‘S okay. I know.”

The queen’s round eyes widen marginally. She stares and stares until she finds what she’s looking for. Resolution, probably. Maybe even hints of acceptance if she digs deep enough.

What you don’t expect is for her to immediately crush you against her in a tight hug. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything and you try to not cry because it’s been a long, long time since you’ve felt this.

When she finally releases you, you struggle to not lean into the residual warmth from her embrace. Keeping her hands on your shoulders, she leans down once more. Voice so soft even you struggle to hear it, she says, “Just like our Mallow belongs to two worlds, so do you. In spite of how you were brought here, you still chose to help us. I know not if we can repay you for everything you’ve done, but know this: you are loved.”

You start, confused and giddy and scared all at once. You’re not too sure what your face is doing, but it warrants Queen Nimbus to ruefully shake her head.

“I sense a myriad of connections that weave through you, whether you know them or not.” Her smile widens. “And I sense another just on the cusp of being truly born.”

Here, she releases you and steps away, obscuring your vision just so. In the center of your sights is none other than Geno, who’s still speaking with Shyster, given how he doesn’t notice.

Unbidden, your fingers reach up to thumb at the worn fabric around your neck. Connections, huh...

Seems like the universe at large wants you to have a chat with Geno.

“Thanks.” You lick your lips, mouth abruptly dry. You offer the queen a half-grin, unable to quell the fear that ripples through you. “I think I needed to hear that.”

Queen Nimbus doesn’t reply verbally, opting for a tiny bow before she takes her leave with a grace befitting her status.

Apparently, that’s the cue for Shyster to finally stop talking with Geno, since he’s quick to motion you over. Once you’re near enough, the Shy Guy announces, “Since you’ll probably sleep for the rest of the day or at least until dinner, I decided to get the plans for the next days from Mr. Spirit here—”

“Uh, that we’re just gonna chill until further notice…? Mallow already told me.”

“Oh.” Shyster crosses his arms and exchanges a quick glance with a Geno who looks as wiped as you feel. “Well, guess our bases are pretty much covered, then. Realistically, we’re looking at a few days here, tops. Then it’s off to Bowser’s Keep.”

Another minute or so of back and forth, you and Shyster part ways with Geno. It’s only when you’re in the hallway leading back to your room that you question the current time of day.

“Oh yeah,” Shyster nods sagely, “you slept through breakfast and lunch. I’d guess it’s a couple hours past noon.”

You’re at a crossroads, because you’re _very_ tired after fixing the Star Piece, but you don’t have that much time left and you’d rather be awake than lose even _more_ to sleep. What to do, what to do…where’s your insomnia now?

“Wow, you must be tired,” Shyster deadpans, one eye hole lidded. “Didn’t even realize you said that all out loud, didja?”

You falter and nearly trip over the plush carpet. “Uhhh, I did? Really…?”

Shyster does the approximation of rolling his eyes and practically shoves you back into your room and into your bed. Wiping his hands off in accomplishment, he huffs, “How’s about you stop mulling over all these things and just enjoy the moment for the time being, okay?”

You roll your eyes, hating how the fuzzy comforter is already lulling you to sleep. “Can’t do that if I’m sleeping.”

“And you can’t enjoy things if you’re unaware of what you’re doing in the first place,” he retorts. For added insult to injury, he threatens, “Don’t make me cast Lulla-Bye; your Safety Badge won’t deflect an ally’s spell, after all. Like with Birdo.”

“_Pssh_. Rude.”

His tone is remarkably soft. “It’s for your own good. Now get some rest.”

You don’t even hear him leave before you’re already off in la-la land, thinking of things you still want to do and things that need to be done.

*** * * * * * ***

You idly thumb at the soft bandana wrapped securely around your throat. You also rub the worn fabric of your yellow canvas bag, and after a bit of digging through the pockets, you fiddle with the couple of rainbow beans the Shy Away gave you. They shine beautifully in the afternoon light, iridescent. What also glimmers faintly is the red Amulet, strapped around the leash of your bag.

Ever the sentimental idiot, you think about all the people who’ve brought you to where you are now.

First was obviously Mr. Shroomby, who was also the first to knock some sense into you about your place in this world. Then came Shyster, who proved to be the best friend you never knew you wanted. Then it was Stitches and Stripes—rather, Basil and Gill, if going by their real names. And good ol’ Johnny...now _he_ was the one who really beat some sense into you, _ha_. Perhaps the oddest of those you’ve grown close to are the clown brothers. Who knew both Knife Guy and Grate Guy could be so helpful? And those two Shy Guys—the Shy Away and even _Sergeant Guy_, if your guess is right.

...that’s quite a lot, and that’s not even getting into the other, _main_ characters of _Super Mario RPG_.

Which is why, in retrospect, you should probably heed the universe’s many cues to have a goddamn _talk_ with Geno. You mean, he did offer to listen if you needed it...

Trying to halt the thoughts of ‘even if he _did_, you’d be selfish to force him’ as compared to ‘he deserves to know how you _really_ feel,’ you take a deep breath. Calm down, calm down, you can _do_ this—

As soon as the tapestry shifts only to reveal a familiar blue cap and cape, you practically fling yourself from the wall and jab your finger at him. Any and all words get caught behind your rapidly beating heart.

Geno returns your likely crazed look with one of mild concern. “Uh, is there something—”

“We need to talk.”

O-kay, not the best way to go about things, but you can work with this! At least he’s not turning tail and hiding like you would’ve done in the beginning.

Funnily enough, he even recognizes that. Rubbing the back of his head, he says, “Well, I guess it had to be done at some point, so I can’t avoid it any longer.” He sighs, low and drawn. “I promised, after all.”

You can’t help but feel your expression sour at that last bit, which he quickly notices. But instead of asking you in the middle of the otherwise empty hallway, his red eyes just stare and stare. Finally, he breaks contact and glances back into his room. “I’m assuming you want to go somewhere else using the transport here?”

Pursing your lips, you nod.

“...do you want to go to the beach in Seaside Town?”

That’s...oddly kind of him. But you shake your head, replacing your beans back into your bag. “...was thinkin’ about Star Hill, honestly. Far from other people.” Then, almost like an afterthought, you admit, “I’d still like to go. To the beach, I mean.”

Geno’s stare doesn’t linger too long. He just nods in a quiet understanding and quickly retreats into his room to presumably fetch some items. Monsters are still a very real possibility.

Soon enough, the two of you are making your way to the central dock for the Nimbian bus service. It’s apparently what the others have been using during the past day as a means to relax. From what Shyster said, Mario and Toadstool even went back to the Mushroom Kingdom for some down-time.

Your trek is quiet, and as you peer at Geno, you’re reminded of the version of him you internally built up before you got the chance to know him. Stoic, cool, and composed. Which, in turn, probably means something’s wrong.

But you’re going to have a talk with him, so you’ll figure it out.

The Lakitu driver cordially greets both you and Geno as you board the rather expansive vehicle. After giving him the destination - “the outskirts of Star Hill, please” - he merely tipped his cap and that was that.

The ride to Star Hill was majestic, mainly due to the fact you were gliding across the open air with the entire land below on full display. Sure, there’s no ceiling or even railings to the bus, but that doesn’t stop you from leaning over the edge to spot a few of the more prominent landmarks dotting the scenery.

There’s Land’s End and Monstro Town, the desert, even Grate Guy’s casino off in the distance...you can still see the ocean sparkling under the afternoon sun, especially the tides rolling into Seaside Town...and there’s the jagged cove where the Sunken Ship rests, along with its crew, both living and otherwise...

Curious, you slide over to the other side where Geno is also looking below. Sure enough, you can see Booster Tower, the rugged plateau of Booster Pass, even the mountain where Moleville is at the base. If you squint enough, you can even see bits and pieces of Rose Way, Rose Town, and maybe even Tadpole Pond. The Mushroom Kingdom is so far away, but you think you see it on the distant horizon.

Ah, memories.

The ride is spent with only the rustling of wind to fill the silence. It’s not really awkward, just...calm. Not even a calm before a storm, really. Something that needs to be done, for both your sakes.

Considering how close Star Hill is to Bean Valley, it doesn’t take too long to land just before the grass dissipates into the familiar, purple hues of the comets. After a quick goodbye where he promises to pick you up before dinnertime, the Lakitu chaperone takes off, leaving you and Geno just before Star Hill.

The silence between you continues well into your hike through the place. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to weave through the various star gates; the enemies were few and far between.

It’s only when you’re finally straining to climb up the furthest hill that you actually recognize this place. It grows more obvious when Geno leans down to inspect the single flower on the slope, still crushed beyond recognition.

“...this was your wish.”

You don’t immediately reply, but your silence is telling enough. Instead, you jab a thumb further up the hill. “C’mon; Shyster and I had a heart-to-heart here before, and it’s your turn now.”

Geno offers you an incredulous look before playfully rolling his eyes. Still, you can hear him sigh as he gets back up to his feet, leaving behind the crushed flower. He follows you up to the apex where the purple Star Piece was and you don’t hesitate to plop down onto your butt. Geno mimics you in short order, and with far more decorum.

“So you knew there was a Star Piece here,” he starts benignly, peering over at you. “Was it here when you and Shyster came?”

Nodding, you shrug. “Yeah. Johnny wanted to test my loyalty or seer abilities or whatever by getting it. In the end it was just a farce; he said I should trust its safety in the hands of my allies. Hence why we left it here for you guys.”

“I see.” Geno leans back, admiring the hundreds of stars twinkling away in the nighttime sky. Then again, it’s always night time here at Star Hill, but it’s still pretty. “So you decided to join us back then.”

“Pretty much, yeah. Took a bit of prodding from both Johnny and Shyster, not gonna lie.”

The doll scoffs. “Of course. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you’re stubborn to a fault.”

“More spiteful than anything, but okay.”

The two of you snort at the absurdity of the situation before another pause presents itself. In an odd twist, you find yourself taking the reins of the conversation.

“Speaking of which, spite is pretty much why I wanted to talk with you. Y’know,” you smirk, unable to help yourself, “a little payback for all those times in the beginning when you’d hound us down—”

“I get it, I get it,” Geno drawls, shoulders sagging in defeat. “I can’t run away from this any longer.”

“Damn right! See, it only takes a little kick in the ass to get going, _ha ha_!” Ignoring the grimace on his wooden face - cussing always seems to do that - you plow right into it. “Besides, I’d like to believe what Shyster said; that you and me are alike in a lot of ways.”

Geno perks up, brow raised. “...I’m a little afraid to ask why he’d think that, but humor me.”

You grin, but there’s a fragile sort of cheer to it. “With pleasure! Let’s see here: we’re both stubborn assholes—”

He immediately sputters. “_Wh-what_? I’m not—”

“—we’ve both got tempers, even if it takes a bit to unearth,” you continue, poking fun at his fuming, “we’re decked out in blue and yellow, we both suck at naming things; like, dude, you can’t just slap on ‘Geno’ in front of all your spells and _not_ be called out on it…”

You can’t help but laugh when Geno’s eyes narrow dangerously, laughing even harder when he crosses his arms and waits for you to go on.

“And—” Your smile wavers. “—we’re both afraid of the end. The end of our journey.”

Geno starts, eyes wide as he holds your own recalcitrant stare. You keep your mouth shut and wait for him to fill the blanks. He stares and stares, and you can only wonder what he must find in your gaze because he slumps forward, mouth curled into an ugly grimace, brow pinched.

A sigh echoes faintly; it’s shaky. “...is it that obvious…?”

You smile but drop it when you can’t summon the effort to make it even remotely sincere. “...I dunno. It makes sense when looking back, but it was Shyster who brought it up first.”

Geno nods once. A sound escapes, but you can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a sigh or snort or just a breath. “He’s quite perceptive, isn’t he?”

“Almost too much, yeah. It’s why I destroyed my flower.”

A beat.

Geno heaves a shuddering breath. You watch him collapse in on himself, looking small under his cape as he grips his own arms. You still don’t like how guilt looks on his face.

He opens his mouth, closes it. Repeats until he lets out a tiny breath. Staring up at the stars, he begins.

“I’m a low-ranking spirit. My job is simple: I’m to do as I’m told by the Grand Stars and all those above me.” He releases his arms to extend them, peering at his hands with a contemplative look. “We spirits of the Star Road are responsible for granting wishes, sometimes ones larger than life—miracles, you’d call them. But mostly we tend to the tiny things. You know, innocuous events many would overlook; finding a misplaced item, a speedy recovery from an illness, so on and so forth. At least, those were _my_ responsibilities, given my rank.”

Geno shakes his head, resting his hands on his knees. “Us spirits aren’t trying to undermine one’s own will or drive to accomplish things for themselves. We do what we do to provide _hope_.”

You blink. _Hope_…?

He seems to notice your confusion. “We believe if we grant wishes, no matter how insignificant, then it provides hope. And with that hope, people can dream—have dreams which won’t have a price. And it is _our_ hope that in doing so, everyone can strive toward a future where they can realize their dreams. That’s it; nothing more, nothing less.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what to say, _if_ you should say anything at all. But Johnny comes to mind, as do Stripes and Stitches. “...seems like you just want to quell doubts before they can even start. Y’know, give people a reason to live. Or make them _want_ to live, or...something.”

Geno makes a so-so motion. “...I guess. We just want what’s best for others. And providing hopes and dreams sustains us spirits, so it works out in the end.”

“But you don’t want to go back.”

He starts shaking his head before stopping himself. Struggling to get the words out, his voice cracks ever so slightly. “It’s not that I don’t want to go back, it’s that…” He glances down at his hands once more. “I volunteered to come down here because I was curious to see how others lived, and I wanted to do something _more_ than what I already did. It also helped that I’m a...naturally combative spirit, so the Grand Stars agreed to allow me passage. And now, after everything, going back...it’s…”

You lean back on your arms, surveying the nighttime sky with a calm that belies your rapid heart. “Experience changes your perception.”

Geno agrees. “Going back only to repeat what I did before coming here is...it doesn’t interest me. That repetitive existence where I can’t do what I want—” He makes an aggravated sound. “Helping others _directly_ can’t be replaced by granting menial wishes, not anymore. But I know that’s what’s left for me on Star Road.”

What can you possibly say to _that_? You can’t fathom what it’d be like to be stuck in such a crappy position; having a taste of the other side where the grass is greener but unable to truly relish in it—oh wait. You can kinda relate, but still…

“‘Ain’t nothing worse than a link who doesn’t participate in the chain at all,’” you recite, the words burned into your memory.

Geno offers you a wary glance. “...Johnny?”

“Johnny,” you affirm with a small grin. Shifting a bit, you turn toward him. “I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I can understand, but I know enough to realize that it’s because of Star Road that I’m here now. And you know what? If it wasn’t for you, then I never would’ve gotten the chance to experience everything here. And after all this time, even knowing I can’t stay, I’m…”

Your fingers find themselves intertwined in the folds of your bandana. “I’m _happy_ I got the opportunity to live, y’know? I got to do things I could’ve never dreamed of before, got to make genuine connections I couldn’t or didn’t before—and it’s all thanks to you and your Star Road.”

Geno’s expression is a bit closed off, like he isn’t sure whether to buy your false bravado. Even so, you say, “And Johnny also told me that the more I dwell on...on the end, then the less time I have to _live_. So. Food for thought, I guess.”

But he simply lowers his gaze back to the ground in front of him.

“_Stars_,” he murmurs, voice strained, “this is so stupid. I—I hate feeling like this, and compared to you I have _no right_—”

You’re quick to slap his shoulder as a means to chastise him, but he’s unfazed. Instead, you watch with dawning horror as he clenches his fists so tight you hear the wood begin to crack. “Geno—”

Unsure, your hand hovers over his shoulder. You honestly have no clue if he’s a tactile person - if he can even feel at all in his borrowed body - but the longer he curls in on himself, clearly struggling with some unspoken rage, you act.

But as soon as your fingers press against his wooden frame, he rears back and knocks your hand away. Then he turns to look at you fully, furious gaze unhidden.

“_No_!” He appears stunned at his own actions before the rage resurfaces once more. “There’s no comparison here; I know what the Grand Stars did to grant your wish, and I…! What I did in the beginning, demanding your assistance even though I _knew_—”

Seeing Geno this upset is nearly enough to break down your carefully crafted facade. The fact he’s upset on your behalf only makes it worse. Yet you manage to repress the burning behind your eyes and in your throat.

“...but you didn’t understand,” you whisper, voice hoarse.

And all at once Geno calms down, deflating like a sail that lost its wind. “I do _now_, and because I do I also know how selfish I’ve been.” He shakes his head slowly. “Great stars above, I don’t know how you can stand me. Especially since your wish hasn’t even been granted, and might _not_ be—”

“It will; trust me.”

He offers you a forlorn look. So quiet you can barely hear him, he asks, “Shyster…?”

You can only plaster on a sad excuse for a smile. “Shyster,” you choke.

After a moment, Geno shakes his head, mouth still curled distastefully. Back to looking up at the dark sky, he muses, “I still can’t condone what the Grand Stars did to you, even if they never intend malice. It’s...unnecessarily cruel, in the long run.”

You hum, voice struggling to make it past your throat. “Ah—a little, I-I guess…”

Geno’s anger seems to come back full-force, because he’s quick to rear back on you with a venomous glare. Even if you know it’s not aimed at you, you can’t halt the adrenaline that floods your system and heightens your already turbulent emotions.

“How can you just sit there and let it slide?!” His hand finds your shoulder, wooden fingers curling nearly painfully into it. “It’s distressing me to even _think_ about going back to Star Road as nothing more than another low-ranking spirit, so how can you deal with, _with_—”

“With dying again?”

Geno falters, anger forgotten to confusion, and then melancholy. “...you know.”

“‘Course I know,” you say, but your fake cheer is lost to the shivers of fear wracking your frame. Sobs struggle to writhe their way out your chest, but luckily only stuttering breaths manage to escape.

Curling in on yourself, you can’t help but quip, “I’ve pretty much known since the beginning. ‘S not everyday you die and wake up in an entirely different world.”

Your vision clouds and burns, but you don’t make a move, petrified as you are. Your words are already out in the open; you can’t take them back. But now they’re more real than they ever were locked inside your heart.

Geno’s hand loosens to instead rest softly on your shoulder. “...the Grand Stars told me the seer had drowned. That they could use you for something they predicted but could not prevent.”

You sniff. “...Smithy.”

He nods. “They saw you were lost to time and space. Death is normally absolute, but the Grand Stars can overrule it, if only to adhere to their own laws: by granting a wish. It...was merely convenient that they found someone both useful to them _and_ with a wish that allows for a loophole. Your wish—”

Thankfully, Geno says nothing of the tears now trailing down your face. “...‘I don’t want to die alone.’ That was my wish. Still is, I guess.”

Something wells up besides your tears. A strange sound fills the silence, but you can’t tell if it’s a laugh or an unspoken plea.

“So when everything’s said and done here...”

Geno’s face doesn’t shift; guilt and shame still distort his normally stoic features. “The Grand Stars cannot keep a lost soul who was never meant to belong here. You...you have to return to your own world once my mission is completed.”

Your lips quiver. “So when that happens, I’ll go back to being dead.”

The spirit doesn’t answer. The slightest inclination of his head and subtle rise of his shoulders are enough of an answer.

The carefully constructed dam you’ve built comes tumbling down.

“I’m dead.”

Another sound worms its way out your mouth, tickling your teeth as it goes. And suddenly you’re laughing like you’ve never done before. Maybe it’s the contractions of your diaphragm or maybe it's the sobs you’re still hiding, but it _hurts_ and you—you enjoy the pain because it means you’re _alive_ right now.

“I’m _dead_.” You hiccup, voice interrupted by your agony. “I’m dead because I’m just some stupid idiot who doesn’t know how to walk o-or swim. I’m the dumbass who decided to take a walk by my beach at night because I’m pathetic and scared of other people. I’m the dumbass who decided to do it after a massive storm blew through and caused a deluge. I-I’m the dumbass who tripped on the wet silt and fell down the cliffs and into the rapid waters and this _fucking knee_—” You slam a fist down onto the swollen appendage, “—made it so I couldn’t swim so I _drowned_! I drowned because I’m a _fucking idiot_…!”

You gasp for breath and can’t seem to get any air. The familiar sensation makes you want to laugh and cry some more. Instead, a scream rips itself from your throat. “_GOD FUCKING DAMN IT_!”

You feel your arm raise to land another strike on your dumb, broken joint but something wraps around your wrist. You struggle but can’t, instead spitting more vitriol now that the dam’s been broken.

“This stupid fucking knee…! Perfect fit for my stupid broken mind to make up this sad excuse of a person who was so fucking pathetic they played the part of a fool because being mocked is better than being alone and if others were huh-happy at my expense, well, what else is new—_fuck_! A-and I promised, I _promised_ I didn’t need anyone else because no matter how hard I tried, I _still_ couldn’t do anything to keep my broken family together and now that I have one, I can’t fucking _stay_…!”

Another cry shreds your already ragged voice further. “And now I have to die _again_! I hate it; _I hate it_…! It’s not _fair_…!”

The arm holding your own grows lax. A moment later, its twin joins and wraps itself around you. You’re shaking really bad but he doesn’t seem to care, instead pressing closer so you can’t shake off his hug.

You don’t know how long you sit there, shuddering with sobs and gasping for air. All you know is the empty ricochets of your breaths, trapped between your aching ribs. The back of your throat burns and burns but no matter how hard you try, your voice fails, leaving its raspy shadow to fill the void.

Lips quivering, you attempt to suck in a breath. “I’m _dead_ and I—I…!” You laugh, but it sounds more like choking than anything. “D-did they even find my body? Is it even a corpse that’s still rot-rotting or is it already bones…? I-I-I—_heugh_…!”

Your vision is too misty to make out anything, which is okay because you’re afraid to see Geno. _Coward_.

“I huh-hate this…!” It’s small but the turmoil it has makes your chest lurch with more uncontrollable sobs. “And—and I can’t…! I-I know I’m a, a coward and it’s selfish but I...I—! I’m dead and nuh-now that I said it it’s real and _I can’t_…!”

You heave so hard you retch a bit. Geno doesn’t release you.

Even so, you manage to choke out, “I’m scared…!”

Your blubbering fits don’t last too long, but it still doesn’t stop the violent shuddering wrecking your torso and depriving you of air. As usual, your throat constricts and your nose is plugged up so much you can’t breath and the sensation is hauntingly familiar and it just restarts the crying in a vicious cycle—

It’s only when your body physically cannot handle your breakdown that you begin calming down. Your vision is swirling and your head is pounding, but the sobs fade until they no longer cause physical pain. The clinical part of you recognizes the symptoms as your body just shutting down due to fatigue, but you feel yourself being supported more so by Geno than yourself. The tears don’t stop, and they probably won’t until you actually pass out.

Mind hazy with too much, too much, Geno’s low voice breaks the lull.

“It’s not selfish of you to be scared.”

It takes a bit to register, but when it does you can only shake your head; the effort it takes is monumental. “It’s selfish. It’s selfish and I know it. ‘S why I’m a coward.”

The arms around you tighten a smidge. His silence urges you on.

A bitter thing tumbles out of your tight jaws; maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh. “It’s why I ran away from you in the beginning. Limited time to...live again. On my own terms. Not…” Your voice peeters out. “...y’know, spite agains’ the Star Road. I knew why I’m here, ever since…”

“In the mines, back at Moleville.”

Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. Wanted to do my own thing; no script.”

He remains quiet for a bit. “I—that’s not selfish at all, given...the circumstances.”

You can’t help but reverently shake your head, only to have your vision swirl so badly your head ends up in the crook of Geno’s shoulder. “It’s selfish. And cowardly, running from the inevitable. I knew; I _knew_ but didn’t wanna admit it ‘cause...everything would’ve been more real. Just...another way to run, I guess…”

“...even if I’ve only been down here for a short while, I—I still like to believe I understand; what it’s like to _live_,” Geno says, sounding perplexed and sincere all at once. “But I don’t understand why you think your actions are selfish.”

Your fatigue-addled tongue is refusing to cooperate, but you plow on. “Said it yourself; ‘death is absolute.’ I’m dead, or I should’ve died, back...back on my beach. Instead I’ve been given a second chance, even if it’s...limited. I’m _lucky_.”

He sighs. “But knowing that...it’s…” An aggravated sound. “A miracle, the Grand Stars would say. A wish with a heavy price, in other words.”

Geno quiets, contemplating something from how the silence stretches on. Then, “...you know of everything imperative to my mission. You mentioned I didn’t need your help to succeed. Is that…?”

Slowly yet surely, you nod your head against him.

His next exhale is shaky. “How needlessly cruel…”

You sniff. “...a bit, yeah. But, not really.”

Geno shifts so that you’re still leaning on him, but he’s no longer pressing you against his wooden frame. You shudder a bit, but it’s more of a relief than anything.

You can’t help but answer his unspoken question. “When I...when I was drowning, I—it was terrifying. It was so, so cold; didn’t know where I stopped and the ocean began. Couldn’t really feel anything, but it hurt at the same time; hurt a lot. Maybe the pain was from falling down the cliff, but...the cold muted it; mostly. And it was dark; couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t breathe. Everything was too tight, too close. And I was by myself, in the water.”

You shudder. “Dying alone was…” But the next words refuse to manifest, instead spilling as an incoherent string of sounds.

A memory flits to the surface, wavering before coming into focus. Back in Belome Temple, when you had killed your doppelganger—watching their face as they realized their end was coming and there was nothing they could do. That sort of helplessness, and the _fear contorting their face_—

Is that what you looked like, back in the water…?

“The only respite I had was actually dying, because experiencing that was...it was _awful_. But—” you release a tiny laugh that sounds more like a sigh, “—I’m here _now_, so I can say I’m _lucky_ I get a second chance. Dying doesn’t really scare me, not after that. And I...I won’t be alone this time.”

“Shyster?”

You smile weakly. “Shyster.”

You gather the strength to glance up at Geno. His mouth is curled in a tired smile. “...I’m glad he’s been there for you throughout...all of this. The two of you—” He makes an odd, scoff-sorta sound. “The both of you are in good hands.”

You make an affirmative noise. “I know he’s gonna—y’know, stick around ‘til the end, but when you said you could help me before, was it…?”

Geno huffs. “Helping you with your magic or remaining by your side to grant your wish? Both, realistically, but I won’t deny the latter was purely...based in obligation, not…” He sighs. “Not in really understanding. But _now_—”

“I get it; ‘s how Shyster and I started out.” He shifts to look down at you but you ignore him. “We cut a deal; I help him how I should've helped you and he lets me bum offa him instead of Mr. Shroomby. Didn’t really get along at first, but now…”

You grin, wiping your wet cheeks. “He’s my best friend. He...when I think of him, the end seems less scary.” You breathe in, slow and steady. “I won’t be alone this time.”

Geno revels in your half-hearted attempt at bravery, if only for a moment. “I realize he’s quite perceptive, but...does he know?”

And just like that, the grin is wiped off your face, replaced with fear. Fingers tightening themselves into fists, your voice trembles, “I don’t think so. But I—_please_—”

Your fingers find purchase in the edges of Geno’s cloak. They curl so much your knuckles betray your reservations. “Please don’t tell him. I don’t—I can’t...he can’t know the truth.”

Geno stares at you for a long, long time. Then he exhales, low and drawn. “Disregarding how perceptive he is and what he already knows, why omit him? I would think he’d be the one you’d want to inform most of all.”

“No. _No_. I—” You breathe in. Out. In. Out. “I’m afraid. I don’t need—he doesn't need to know. If, if he figures it out, then _fine_, b-but...I don’t want things to change between us. I c-can’t—not after, after my family—”

Great; more tears. Might as well divulge your personal baggage while you’re at it.

Geno’s silence seems to agree, waiting for you to continue. After a pause to gather your breath, you mutter, “I can’t deal with change. It’s—it was bad enough when...when my home became a broken one, I guess. Begging for attention, for validation didn’t work; playing the fool and being dumb and stupid seemed to work, though. Wasn’t much different compared to be-before, just…”

“You’re not stupid,” he challenges, to which you shake your head.

“I was; still am. Stupid _and_ selfish.” You laugh, but it’s more of a broken sound than anything. “Took me far, far too long to realize they were their own people with their own problems; not just _my_ family. And here I was, thinking if I gave them something to laugh at, to be happy again, then they’d _stay_...but things _changed_ ah-and I…”

You swallow wetly. “Affection was always in short supply _after_—after…”

Fingers tighten their hold of his cape further. You can feel your brow pinch. “I hated them for that; for changing everything. Promised myself I didn’t need any-anyone else, because if my own family didn’t care, then who else would?”

A tiny, bitter laugh forces itself out. “Just another way of running away, I guess…”

You release your hold, fingers trembling. “But...I forgot who I was _before_. And being alone—I hate it. _I hate it_. And I think that’s why I...I couldn’t stop pretending, trying to get others to, to—”

“To stay.” He pauses. “To appreciate you.”

You nod. “Obligation is better than nothing, so Shyster...even you; doesn’t matter why, just that you guys stay.” You scoff, wiping at your bleary eyes. “_That’s_ why I’m selfish; _that’s_ why I don’t want Shyster to know. I can’t—things can’t change. Not again. I know—I _know_ it’s the coward’s way out, b-but...I can’t. _Please_.”

He glances first at you, then behind, likely looking at your crushed flower. “...okay.”

Then, in a decidedly lighter tone, he quips, “Probably for the best, considering I’m associated with the ones forcing you through this. If he knew...I doubt I’d walk away unscathed, _heh_. He’s frightening for being so unassuming.”

You snort. “Yup. But I like him just the way he is. He’s the one who’s made everything worth it.”

Geno falters before returning your grin with a smaller one. “Yeah.”

And like the ocean after a storm, the tides recede and calm. Instead of an incessant weight pressing in on all times, pulling you down, down, down...it’s gone. The fear doesn’t dissolve, but right now, having found the strength to actually acknowledge the truth...it’s enough. It’s enough to know this isn’t some dream or nightmare, but luck. Convenient, horrible circumstances, but luck all the same.

And your words linger in their truth: if you had the chance, you wouldn’t change anything. Because Shyster makes everything worth it.

Quietly, Geno asks, “How are you feeling?”

You inhale deeply; no abrupt shuddering. Good. The tears are drying up. “Better. Thanks. And sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should be thanking you, but...like you said, I think this is something we both needed. So; thank you for making me recognize my faults and addressing my fears. I feel better now, too.”

Gently, he begins to stand, hoisting you up alongside him. Your leg quivers in both fatigue and pain, but he keeps a firm grasp around your shoulders. For a moment, the two of you drift into a companionable silence, admiring the view of the star-dappled sky hanging above.

It’s almost funny, how similar Geno and you are.

“How so?”

You blink. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” At Geno’s confirming laugh, you shrug and explain. “Ghosts and spirits are kinda similar, right? Magic bodies and all that. Plus, you’re a star spirit who discovered what it’s like to live here, on the surface. I’m a...was a surface-dweller who never really lived until coming here.

“It’s also sorta poetic, I guess.” You watch a light streak across the dark skies above. It vanishes in an instant. “You come from the sky and I was reborn from the ocean. But, y’know, at the horizon, you can’t really distinguish the sky from the sea.”

Geno hums thoughtfully. “That…_is_ oddly poetic of you.” He pauses. “...do you want to go to Seaside Town’s beach? We still have time before we’re due back on Nimbus Land.”

You exhale. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

So the two of you depart toward Seaside Town, steadfastly ignoring your upturned flower and latent wish on the way out of Star Hill. Geno makes the odd observation that you’re not afraid of the ocean despite drowning and you reply it’s kinda dumb to hate a force of nature. You also suggest that drowning was sorta poetic for you; in a way, the ocean loved you enough to keep you forever. Well, until the Grand Stars whisked you away, but you could never hate the waters for what they did, not when they gave you _this_.

Even so, you can’t help but quip that you prefer warm waters over colder ones. “Like showers! Shyster even said you can’t trust someone who doesn’t like a hot shower,” you recall with a smile.

Still doesn’t stop you from dipping your bare feet into the chilly tides of Seaside Town’s beach, admiring the fiery oranges and reds of the sunset. Johnny’s cove remains as craggy as ever.

_Move on_.

You smile. He’d be proud, you think; you’re repaying multiple debts at once.

The tide returns, coasting over your ankles and Geno’s wooden feet, his shoes discarded like yours further up the shore. You shiver pleasantly.

_Feels like home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


	20. Resurface and Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons are dangerous, reader discovers. In that vein, water is wet.

“And once you’re done saving our world, you’ll come back safe and sound; this you promise?”

“Of course, Ma! You and Pa and everyone on Nimbus Land a-and _everyone_ else can bet on it! You’ll see; we’ll give it to Smithy good, just you wait!”

“Oh, my boy…! Your mother and I are so proud…!”

You shift uneasily, eyeing the rather large cloudy bus and its Lakitu driver, still waiting ever-patiently. You even do a triple-check over the items you’ve stashed away in your trusty yellow bag; yep, everything's still there. Can’t be too careful, you anxiety says. Maybe you should check one more time…

It’s still heartwarming to witness Mallow and his parents, but you can’t really quell the jealousy that surfaces every time you witness it. Sure, you can’t really recall what your homelife was like before everything went to shit, but you can vaguely remember being a _lot_ happier. Who knows; maybe your smile actually reached your eyes back then.

Speaking of which, your eyes manage to capture red ones. Biting your lip, you try to not allow yourself to stare at Mallow’s embrace with his parents longer than needed, which Geno obviously notices because of course. Well, you kinda _did_ levy all your issues onto him, like, two days ago. Still, you do feel better about...well, everything, you guess.

But the spirit just stares knowingly, and you return with a half-hearted grin. _Just be happy for the kid, damn it_!

“Well, at least he didn’t summon a downpour like last time,” Shyster quips below you. Both you and Bowser snort.

“At least Geno’s cape was useful; hardly got a drop on me!” You can’t help the snide smirk at the doll’s abrupt grimace.

Fiddling with his orange...hair, you guess, he snips, “You _do_ realize these are held in place by glue, right? Even if this isn’t my body, I can’t just let it be ruined before it’s returned to Gaz.” His nose wrinkles slightly. “I wonder if I accidentally glued my hat to my head…_oof_!”

Either ignoring or reveling in the grimace thrown his way, Bowser just chuckles and pats the doll’s back again. “_Gwar har har_! Even starboy here knows a good hairdo is essential for good looks, and he doesn’t even have any.”

Rolling his eyes, Geno quips, “Someone’s in a good mood. Glad to finally be taking your castle back?”

“You sure bet I am, dollface!”

If there’s one thing that warms your cold, dead heart, it’s that in the times you’ve spent alongside Geno, Shyster has taken to Bowser just as well. Actually, even better, but semantics. After all, the last you checked, only Shyster could get away with calling Geno that. It’s kinda cute, seeing Bowser with a minion in the making. Or at least that’s what you hope; Shyster mentioned you were his first friend, too…

_Don’t dwell, don’t dwell_…

You ignore Geno’s burning gaze in favor of grinning down at Shyster, nudging him with your knee. “Oi, don’t go contaminating the big guy _too_ much. We both know he’s a big softie and I prefer to keep it that way, unlike _someone_.”

Despite Bowser’s abrupt growl that no, he’s not a softie, both Mario and Toadstool share a grin at the Koopa’s expense. You ignore how Shyster crosses his arms, only giggling when he snarks, “So me saving your butt all the time isn’t me being a softie?”

Shrugging, you reply, “Last I checked, _all_ of you is soft.” And if you’re wearing a devilish smirk, well. It’s whatever.

Everyone pretty much burst into crude laughter when the Shy Guy’s mask turns nearly as red as his robes. Even in the face of adversity, read: major embarrassment, he just offers you a pretty menacing glare...if not for the intense blushing. Ha, cute.

While Shyster mutters about being unable to “contaminate” Bowser, Mallow finally makes his way over to the rest of you.

After making your way up the cloudy steps and onto the bus platform, your group slowly but surely filters into the empty seats. Mallow is the first to look back at where the king and queen stand, regan and upright, save for the tears in their eyes. They wave soundlessly, and most of you return the favor. You don’t miss how Queen Nimbus gives you one long, somber look before nodding.

“Thank you,” she says before the Lakitu revs up the magical engine. “And please; be safe. All of you.”

She shoots one, lingering look at Geno. “Take care of one another.”

But you don’t care enough to notice the red eyes which quickly flit to you. No, you’re too stricken by seeing a familiar magenta figure, slowly floating out from the archway behind the monarchs.

Shyly, the royal gardener peeks out from the carved stone and silken tapestry. He’s carding around his trusty watering can, which gleams in the morning sun. It’s so bright you almost don’t notice one of his tiny hands waving goodbye.

You return the motion, happy he managed to see you off despite his schedule.

It was hard enough to have another chance to just hang out with the Shy Away in the proper gardens, hidden within the castle. But it was nice, speaking with someone who shared your interest in the sciences with enough of a background to bounce ideas from. A sense of normalcy before you’d once again be Sharkbait the seer instead of just Sharkbait, nerd extraordinaire.

You still have his rainbow beans tucked away in your bag. Even if the king and queen stocked your group up nicely, well, you’re sure the beans will come in handy during the factory, maybe even Bowser’s Keep. Long, overly arduous dungeon that’s gonna be.

Even if the Shy Away doesn’t strike you as the lonely type, you’re glad Birdo is there to keep him company alongside his plants. ‘S not like you have to worry about that Sling Shy; he’ll eventually get into cahoots with a Goomba and Paratroopa. Mr. Shroomby has Mr. Mycil, Knife Guy has Grate Guy, and Johnny has his entire crew, including Stitches and Stripes. You’re glad, because being alone sucks.

And as the bus lurches before gently floating away from Nimbus Land, you take a peek at the others.

Mario’s settled in alongside the princess, who chatters about something or other. Geno has leaned back in his own seat, arms crossed and eyes closed as if sleeping. Bowser is eagerly eyeing the rough mountain his keep is built upon. Shyster is sitting besides you, staring off into space which probably means he’s contemplating something deeply. And you’re emulating what Mallow is doing; waving at the shrinking figures of the king, queen, and Shy Away until you can no longer make them out. Always the sentimental one.

Once you can no longer see Nimbus Land save for the clouds it’s built upon, you settle back into your seat, shoulder admittedly a bit sore.

“So,” you glance down at Shyster, who continues, “is this the last time we can relax?”

Time for Sharkbait the seer. “I dunno. We can probably rest a bit more once we’ve made our way through most of Bowser’s Keep. But...once we get to the factory, that’s…”

“It’ll be one long mission,” he surmises correctly.

“Yeah, pretty much. Really not looking forward to it.” _For more reasons than that_.

Shyster makes a sound of agreement. “Gotta be done though. Still, sounds like it’s the last time we’ll be able to sit back.”

You eye him a bit, whilst also noticing how the murmuring between Mario and Toadstool has died down. In your peripheral, Geno’s far too stiff to be anything but eavesdropping. “...do you want me to tell you what we can expect?”

Shyster sighs. “You don’t have to. We’re still gonna do what needs to be done, at any rate. But you if you wanna just lay back for a bit, enjoy the ride and all that, then do that. ‘S your choice; don’t feel obligated.”

That nets a quiet smile, but causes a bit of unease to stir inside your chest. Indecision; to tell and reduce the risk for everyone, or be selfish and enjoy your last moments of freedom. Even if Bowser’s Keep is nearby to Nimbus Land on the in-game map, real life proves them to be far, far apart; it’ll be at least an hour before you reach the mountainous castle.

In the end, you settle for a compromise; you’re quick to describe how you’ll be facing two exceptionally strong enemies and a slew of obstacle courses. You can’t help but laugh alongside Shyster when Mario hurls a positively venomous glare at Bowser while Toadstool just sighs in resignation. Malevolent architecture indeed.

You’ll give more details when you can actually remember them; Bowser’s Keep is pretty...it’s a lot. Still, everyone goes back to their own things whilst you stew in silent contemplation.

_Don’t dwell_.

...like Shyster said, You’re gonna do what needs to be done, that much is certain.

Still doesn’t stop you from eyeing the land below, trying to catch a last glimpse at Seaside Town and maybe, just maybe a glimpse of the rocky cove just off its shoreline. Well, at least you got a chance to visit the beach a couple more times since you said goodbye to Stitches, Stripes, and Johnny. Er, well, they said goodbye to you, but the result’s the same.

Thumbing your bandana, you watch the land go by, recognizing everywhere you’ve been. Memories, memories…

_Don’t dwell_.

Even so, your mind is filled with the moments you shared alongside Johnny’s crew, meandering through the dilapidated halls of the Sunken Ship. Like a film, the images don’t cease, even when the bus dips down, down, eventually docking alongside the broken pathway before the entrance to Bowser’s fortress.

You clutch onto the leash of your bag, knuckles white. About as white as the fluffy clouds making up the royal bus of Nimbus Land as it drifts further and further away.

_Don’t dwell_.

“Is everyone ready?”

You look back to where Geno stands, just before the heavy wooden doors and chains holding them shut. You exchange quick glances with everyone else, faces scrunched in either trepidation or stoicism. Yours is probably the latter; you’re so numb you don’t know what you’re feeling, honestly.

Shyster nudges your good leg. He motions with his head before looking up at you. “C’mon; let’s push onward.”

A shaky smile worms its way onto your face. “Yeah. Okay.”

Your eyes meet red ones. Your smile stays in place. _He makes everything worth it_.

Geno simply nods and turns toward the locked gates, arms already shifting into guns.

*** * * * * * ***

“Hey Bowser?”

The king of Koopas just grunts, sending a few more of his minions scurrying. Despite the hostile takeover from Smithy, they seem more than willing to run once faced with their actual boss. “Whaddya want, Sharkbait?”

“I can dig the architecture, really; gothic with a hint of neato,” you grunt, flinging a Diamond Saw at one of those giant, spiny crab monsters; Star Crushers, or something? “But what I definitely do _not_ dig are all the _stupid lava pits_!”

The Koopa just grunts nonchalantly, even as you hover uncertainty near the edge of your floating platform. Y’know, above molten rocks? Yeah; you’ve already nearly tripped and almost fallen to your certain doom a couple of times. Doesn’t help those green-shelled Paratroopas like to divebomb you as you struggle to hop from one platform to the next.

“What happened to the bridges?!” you seethe, windmilling your arms after another pesky turtle makes another go at you. “I thought there were bridges in this first section!”

“Oh yeah.” Bowser takes a step back and, contrary to what he can do in-game, shoots a few fireballs to ward away the pesky Paratroopa. Once the flying turtle flees out of a nearby window, he bashfully admits, “I was doing some, er, renovations. ‘S why the place is a lot bigger than when you first broke into it.”

That last part was aimed at Mario, who just rolls his eyes and whallops a nearby Forkie with his hammer.

Meanwhile, you’re struggling to hop to the next platform before your current one starts to plummet. Which it does, forcing you to leap and nearly miss the next one. In the end, you can’t really keep up and settle for blasting yourself across the room with a Storm, thankfully landing in Bowser’s arms because your aim sucks.

“Reckless brat, ain’t ya?” But Bowser just sounds smug instead of annoyed, setting you down.

Shyster grunts, heaving his mace back after sending another Forkie into the afterlife with it. “Stars, you have no idea when lengths they’ll go to.”

“You mean like all those times we nearly died running away from Geno and them?” You thank Bowser after he sets you down. Ignoring the Shy Guy’s look of menace, you sigh wistfully. “Oh yeah; good times, good times…”

Slowly but surely, you make your way through the minion-infested corridors. You allow Bowser to intimidate most of them off, but those loyal to Smithy are left to him, Mario, and Shyster since you want to save your magic as much as necessary. If memory serves, isn’t there a gruelling hallway filled with enemies that get progressively more difficult? Whatever; you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

“_Ugh_, there’s a lot more to this place than I thought…”

You don’t even have to look to know Shyster’s glaring at you.

Still, it does take a fair bit longer to reach the familiar corridor where the beginning segment of the game took place. In person it’s actually kinda scary being in a white room riddled with onyx spikes. You kinda thought they looked dumb in-game, like mussels or something.

“Alrighty,” Bowser motions the rest of you over to the end, “the rest of my castle’s thisaway, so hurry it up! The quicker we can kick Smithy where it hurts, the quicker I can get my home and minions back!”

A hidden doorway opens after Bowser fiddles with some sorta mechanism, and the rest of you are quick to follow him deeper into the darkness.

There doesn’t seem to be many enemies in these hidden rooms - just a few Goombas and Paratroopas who flee when they see Bowser - but there are a few chests hidden behind pillars and statues.

It’s only when you open another pair of red doors - hello, _Yoshi’s Island_ boss - that you finally catch a break from all the fighting. Well, for the most part.

You immediately squint your eyes and hiss, “_You_.”

Croco’s eyes are comically wide as he takes in your raggedy-looking teammates, yourself included. He shifts uneasily before attempting a wry grin, but it looks more like a grimace. “‘Ey, if it ain’t the kid from Mushroom Kingdom! And the brutish lot who gave me a what-for…”

Mallow is the first to draw his froggie stick. “Don’t think you’re gonna steal from us again!”

Croco hunches in on himself, looking pretty defensive when met with both Mario, thief-puncher extraordinaire; Bowser, who’s intimidating as all heck; and Geno, who’s literally just guns. Yeah, if the spirit was looking at you like that, you’d cower too.

But then his eyes trail over to you and Shyster. Not liking what he sees on the Shy Guy’s mask, the purple crocodile eyes you instead. “An’ here I was, wonderin’ where my pal ran off to after I sic’d those two fish at ya. How’d the pirate life treat ya?”

“Pretty well, actually,” you remark casually. “In fact, here’s a neat little trick the captain taught me.”

You summon a Diamond Saw, forcing it to whirr midair like a buzzsaw.

Croco goes from skeevy to alarmed. “O-okay, okay, jeez! I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble; got enough of that in this maze of a place. Still, looks like _you_ guys could use some help and I could use some cash. Sooo...how’s about an agreement, eh?”

With a speed given his profession, he pulls out a variety of healing items from his trademark sack. That’s a lot of Pick-me-ups he’s got there.

Noticing your interest, Croco sidles up and drawls, “Lookin’ for a quick Pick-me-up, eh? Good choice, kid; it’ll be 5 coins. Discount for puttin’ that spell of yours away.”

“Oh, right. Sorry ‘bout that.” Your Diamond Saw dissipates and you reach into your bag for a few coins.

Your group dawdles a bit, probably trying to catch their breaths before the next few halls. Even Croco, who was busy trying to loot the place, hinted that there’s a bunch of enemies wandering about. “Can’t believe I had to hide to save my own hide,” he laments with a huff.

Once Toadstool and Mallow stocked up on a few Maple Syrups each, your group preps to leave. As a sign of good-faith because really, if it weren’t for Croco’s interference, you would’ve never met Stitches, Stripes, or Johnny, you point to the corner of the room. “Pretty sure there’s a couple of hidden chests in a room; one’s got coins in it,” you say. You watch the purple lizard immediately jump up to investigate, only to return with a few big coins and a mushroom.

“What a waste,” Croco remarks as he eyes you up again. “To think that kid from the Mushroom Kingdom woulda been a _real_ seer all along; if I’d known you were a mage I woulda recruited you in a heartbeat, _heh_!”

You just raise a brow and nudge Shyster. “Already in cahoots with a thief, but thanks. I guess.”

The break alongside Croco was amiable enough, even more so when he bids your group farewell to which you reply you’ll probably be seeing him later on in a different room.

Once you push past the signature red doors littering the keep, you step into a rather empty room...if not for the six sets of doors taking up one wall.

You let out a massive groan. How could you have forgotten _this_ tomfoolery…?

Geno side-eyes you. “...I take it these doors are going to be troublesome to deal with.”

“Dude, you have _no_ idea.”

In as quick of a rundown that you can, you explain the gimmick of the doors; that being they’re randomized with different ‘obstacle courses’ behind them. There’s two actual obstacle courses with lava and floating platforms and stuff, two courses where you gotta answer trivia questions, and then two courses where you just fight a lot...or at least that’s what you recall. But you remember seeing others play through this particular dungeon, complaining about the randomness, so you figure it’s a good enough explanation.

“It makes sense,” Geno says, holding his chin. “It’s faint, but I can sense some powerful magic twisting the space behind each door. Would it be possible to split up and accomplish these courses separately?”

“But wouldn’t it be easier if we all stuck together?” Mallow asks.

Geno starts like he suddenly remembered something important—why’s he looking at you? It is because—ah. Right.

Honestly, with all the sorta-but-not-really lowkey signals he’s been sending your way, you hope no one else picks up on it. You really, _really_ don’t want Shyster to know you’ll be dying again after this is all over. You don’t want _anyone_ else to know; the less there are to confront or ask or hint or pity you because of that, well...the less you’ll have to think about it.

Johnny said “don’t dwell,” so you’re gonna try and keep it up as best you can.

It’s not like if you’re continuously confronted with your inevitable fate you’ll probably go insane, nope. Not at all.

...still, maybe you shouldn’t have had a massive breakdown in front of Geno, begging to not be left alone? Hmm. Your bad, even if it did feel, paradoxically, like the weight of the world was both relieved from and settling down on your shoulders.

You just meet his eyes and raise a single brow. His posture slackens once more; message received, then.

Shyster makes a negative sound. “Don’t think so, given my understanding of how this entire thing works. While it would be easier to go at it one at a time, there’s also the risk that we could get in each other’s way in the actual obstacle courses. Coupled with their bum knee; no offense—”

“None taken.”

“—and the fact they mentioned limited attempts for those courses, seems like a disaster in the making. And that’s not even getting into how tired we’ll all be if we do all four together,” Shyster summarizes. He crosses his arms and says, “Still doesn’t sit right with me that it’s randomly determined. Then there’s the general time frame of doing it separately vs all together...I mean, it’d be safer to go at it together, but you mentioned lava—”

“Oh yeah, the obstacle courses have tons of it. Also invisible platforms.”

“...okay then.” Shyster sniffs. “Is there a way to retry certain doors, or what?”

You pause. “I...I honestly don’t know. All I know is that, depending on what doors—er, courses are completed, like, successfully, there’ll be a chest with a reward at the end. Pretty sure said rewards are more weapons...or something. I dunno; can’t really remember that. Might even be Rock Candies. Or flower tabs...hmmm…”

Bowser huffs a bit, gathering everyone’s attention and interrupting your muttering. “After that stunt Sharkbait pulled earlier, I think it’d be safer to go at it separately. If they nearly blow themselves into lava, who’s to say they won’t blow one of us into it?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Well maybe if _someone_ didn’t inundate their castle with killer obstacle courses filled with _lava_, that wouldn’t be a problem! Also, aren’t you lava-proof?”

“Big guy’s got a point,” Shyster says much to your mock disappointment. “But if we’re gonna split up, we better do it right. Be best to separate based on skillsets—”

“How’s about Mario, Mallow and Toadstool; Bowser and Geno; and then you and me?”

Under the scrutiny of everyone, you falter a bit and try your best to defend yourself. “I-I mean, I know that’d be putting both healers in the same group, so I guess it could also be Mario and Mallow, then Bowser, Geno, and Toadstool; Geno’ll be there to watch over the princess, so nothing to worry about there, _ha ha_! It also separates us based on having both close and ranged combatants, in case of needing to fight…”

Shyster shrugs. “Sounds good enough for me; we also work together the best on a personal level too. There’s also items to take care of any other unforeseen issues as well.” To further accentuate that last point, he shifts his backpack.

“Alright then. I guess the only thing left to do is pick a door and hope it’s easy to deal with,” Geno quips.

_Here’s to hoping the self-insert luck strikes_. “As long as I don’t get one of those actiony courses, I’m good.”

You and Shyster stand before door #3. The two of you share looks with the others before unanimously pushing against the heavy metal slabs. A chorus of ominous creaking ricochets almost painfully off the cobbled walls.

In spite of all the chandeliers and lamps filling the castle with light, the innards of the next room remain cloaked in shadows. It’s only when you finally step over the threshold and the doors shut behind you that you finally see what course RNG placed you in.

*** * * * * * ***

“_Arrgh_—!”

“Oi, watch it! And stay back…!”

You roll over the purple carpet and manage to dodge the makeshift mace. Really, it’s just the massive iron ball that’s chained to a hecking Donkey Kong - or Chained Kong; _whatever_ \- but it doesn’t seem to be slowing down the ape. Although you’re pretty sure the ape’s a low-level enemy, the fact of the matter is a steel ball _will_ hurt if it lands.

On clammy hands you manage to pry yourself up just in time to cast a quick Diamond Saw at the Kong. The monster disperses into a cloud of smoke, and a quick glance over at Shyster shows him battering a Star Crusher into nothingness as well.

The battle now over, you and Shyster pause to catch your breaths.

“_Tch_; just my shitty luck,” you start, wiping your brow free of sweat. “Thinking ‘oh, it’ll be fine if I get any of the other courses instead of the actiony ones,’ and what do we get? The fricken’ battle course.”

“Dunno about you, but it seems like what we’re doing counts as action,” Shyster quips, dusting his robes off. He does look a bit beat up, and you doubt you look any better; all those Shoguns or Armored Ants managed to slice the both of you up pretty good, even if Shyster doesn’t bleed. Well, at least from what you can tell. And then there were all those Chows and Forkies...least to say, you never want to get bit by a dog again. Or stabbed with a fork, but at least it wasn’t a repeat of Yaridovich.

He looks over at you. “So what’s the deal with that Magikoopa summoning all these enemies?”

“That’s Kamek; y’know, Bowser’s caretaker and psudo-guardian?” At his abrupt glare which screams ‘explain,’ you do. “Kamek’s...I think he’s being controlled by Smithy, or something? Probably the one responsible for distorting those six doors to disobey physics. Anyways, we kick his ass later and then he helps us.”

Shyster grunts. “Seems like wherever there’s a problem, the best way to go about solving it is through violence.”

“Yup!” you chirp, hands pressed against the red doors. “Pretty sure there’s one more room after this before we’re home free. Are you ready to wreck some more poor saps?”

“...how is it that you’re the same coward I met back at the outskirts of Rose Way?”

You laugh. “I believe the term you’re looking for is called character development, dude.”

Shyster does the equivalent of rolling his eyes before accompanying you to the door. Together, you heft the metal slabs apart and step into the third and final chamber of the battle course. The doors slam behind you.

As expected, Kamek in all his red-robed glory appirates before you in a cloud of smoke. Wordlessly like always, he flourishes his magic wand - basically a replica of the one you and that Sling Shy found - and a quick flash of light and magic later, several monsters stand before you.

Although your magic stores are rapidly deteriorating, you’ve realized your strength in combat relies on your magic’s raw capabilities. Basically, your style is to go big or go home, no ifs, ands, or buts. Kill before you get killed. Coupled with Shyster’s surprising speed and general maneuverability while up close and personal, the two of you are making short work of every battle you’re been forced to fight. Of course, it’s at the cost of your stamina, but you have those nifty beans from the Shy Away.

So you fling yourself into the fray with wild abandon, throwing your raging magic around. A few Diamond Saws and a Storm later, several Big Bertha cannons splinter into chunks of iron before those dissipate too. A Water Blast causes the slew of Bob-ombs to explode at a safe distance from you and Shyster. And a single Waterspout is enough to eradicate those pesky Pulsar enemies, even if one managed to successfully OHKO Shyster with a well-placed explosion.

It’s after you pour a Pick-me-up over his mask that he sputters awake, rapidly looking around.

He grunts when he sees nothing. “...thanks for that. Coulda had a bit more decorum about it, though.”

You just grin down at him, unable to contain the joy courtesy of all your adrenaline. “Consider it payback for back in the Forest Maze when I was paralyzed.”

“...huh. Fair enough.”

You watch as he slowly sits up and starts digging through his pockets for something. That something proves to one of the rainbow beans the Shy Away gave you.

Before you can even get a single exclamation or word out, he tosses it your way and you fumble to catch it. Once it’s firmly between your palms, he explains, “‘Cause you leave your bag off to the side whenever we fight, I figured I’d root through your things and swipe a few items in case you needed them immediately. Didn’t think I’d be the one getting knocked out, but hindsight’s 20-20. Anyways, you’re just about on the cusp of magical exhaustion.”

You blink. “Really? I mean, I feel fine—”

His eye holes lid slightly; exasperation. “That’s the adrenaline talking. Now shut up and eat that bean because, last I checked, someone didn’t buy any Maple Syrups even though they’re a _mage_.”

You purse your lips and echo, “Fair enough.”

The two of you pause as you chew the rainbow bean thoughtfully. Surprisingly, it doesn’t really taste like anything, but the texture is pleasantly rigid yet strangely smooth once past the outer coat. Better is how your body stops shivering from the lingering adrenaline and your vision stops spinning at the edges. You wriggle your fingers and call your magic, causing your palms to glow a pale blue; barely any effort and the light’s bright as ever. Good; your FP is completely restored.

“...huh. Guess I should be thanking you,” you say, allowing your magic to vanish from beneath your skin. “...I don’t really plan ahead, do I?”

Shyster just pats your leg softly. “Like I mentioned previously, the two of us work pretty well together. You’re the firepower and I’m the stragesist. Or more plainly, you’re the brawns and I’m the brains—oi.”

You retract your foot from your playful nudge, but can’t stop the smile. “Well, I guess you’re not wrong; I tend to prefer to be caught up in the moment than...the long term.”

Your words linger in the open air. Great; you just had to go and make things awkward.

Thankfully, Shyster doesn’t question you. Instead, he just bemoans how ratty his robes are getting because of all the combat before vocally ruminating if he has enough red thread to fix the tears himself. For how observant he is, you have no doubt that he’s ignoring his own curiosity for your own benefit. He probably knows you well enough that bringing up the end is not something you’re...entirely comfortable with.

But with the two of you, side by side, you think you’re gonna be okay.

Which is why, quietly, you whisper, “Thanks.”

He doesn’t reply save for wordlessly patting your thigh.

As soon as you both catch your breaths and make for the final pair of Terrapin statues lining the carpet, Kamek appears in another poof. A quick flick of his wand and a second, larger cloud of white smoke later, a seemingly benign chest sits on the carpet. Kamek disperses into nothingness again.

You feel a bead of sweat drip down your cheek. “Oh man.”

A Chester? Or Box Boy? You distinctly remember those things being absolute menaces in-game. When you take into account that everything is a ton more difficult in real life...this isn’t looking too hot for you. Especially since you also remember a Bahamutt being one of the enemies this thing summons.

The chest rattles a bit before snapping open. A pair of eyes gleam from the shadows making up its innards and your magic immediately flares.

But as soon as your Water Blast fades away, the curtain of obscurity also falling, you notice the chest doesn’t seem to be harmed much if at all. In addition to the fact this thing doesn’t seem too bothered by your magic, there’s also a distinctly different monster now standing besides it.

“A dragon?!” Shyster exclaims, managed to dodge a quick bite from the scary Yoshi-looking enemy. “What—”

“You take care of the chest and I’ll aim for the Bahamutt!” you yell, already aiming a Storm underfoot the lizard. “But I’m pretty sure both are capable of some strong fire magic, so be careful!”

Shyster doesn’t reply, instead jumping up and swinging his mace down into the wooden monster.

The two of you fall into your normal routine when battling: the best defense in a good offense. Which is probably why you don’t really bother to dodge the several Flame Walls both the Bahamutt and Chester summon. Not that there’s anywhere to hide, but that’s besides the point.

After eating a Flame Stone to the face, you struggle to get back onto your feet. As it is, you’re too busy rolling around on the carpet dodging the claws, stomps, and bites of the Bahamutt. Once you do manage to get back up, the dragon rears back and snaps its tail at you. Your knee buckles when you attempt to jump out of the way, so you’re forced to endure getting smacked into the cobbled wall several feet away.

Grimacing, you use the dragon’s pause to summon a Storm under it. Using a nearby Bowser statue to pry yourself back up, you ready a couple Diamond Saws, looking where the thing’s neck should be.

As soon as your Storm goes away, you attack the disoriented monster. Quickly and efficiently, your Diamond Saws hit their mark and the Bahamutt’s head slides off its neck before both parts go up in smoke.

You don’t stop to catch your breath, instead glancing over to where Shyster is currently rolling out of the way of an incoming Flame Stone. But you can see clearly into the Chester’s body and your Diamond Saws surprisingly hit the eyes peeking out. Your aim is getting better.

The monster immediately snaps its lid shut, a series of guttural sounds escaping it. It shudders a bit before opening once more, and you watch as the space around it turns a minty green, tiny stars shimmering into and from existence.

“It can heal itself,” Shyster says, readying his mace. “We need to kill this thing quickly…! Aim for it when it's open!”

You settle for nodding, waiting for the perfect time to strike. After all, he’s right; this thing has no magic defense when you hit its insides, but your spells seem to bounce harmlessly off its wooden shell.

A solid hit manages to splinter a good chunk of the Chester. Sure enough, it’s goaded into attempting to heal itself once more, but if it’s gonna cast a spell, it’s gonna open. Aaand…_there_.

But before your spell can hit - if it does at all - a cloud of white smoke spills out from the chest.

And then your world is nothing but vertigo.

It takes a bit for your brain to stop spinning; rather, that liquid in your ear canal, but that’s unimportant. What _is_ important is the building pressure closing in on all sides of your torso and—oh.

You look down, vision still spinning slightly. You’re suspended a good few meters above the carpeted floor and you have no idea what your face is doing as you capture Shyster’s stoic mask. It’s only when the pressure intensifies to the point of pain that you watch him snap back, ignoring the Chester to instead ram his mace into the Bahamutt holding you up.

The jaws of the dragon halt their clamping, but you can already feel the multiple puncture wounds in your stomach and back. The fact you can also feel a subtle tingling accompanying the warmth leaking into your shirt attests to the fact you’re bleeding, probably pretty badly too. It’s not like a repeat of Yaridovich, but it’s not good, either.

But Shyster’s mace makes contact with the Bahamutt’s belly. In its pain or surprise, the beast rears back and you fly out of its mouth. You can only watch as the thing retaliates by slamming its tail into Shyster, sending him flying back into another wall like the other did to you.

Summoning a weak Storm, you manage to halt your freefall so landing doesn’t hurt too badly. Still, the jarring motion of slamming into the not so plush carpet makes your head spin and your wounds flare.

Kinda ironic when, after a slight pause, the Bahamutt immediately comes down at you with a mouthful of fire.

Your mind blanks for a second before it comes back with a whiplash. You can only hiss as you attempt to crawl away, your clothes burnt and wounds now cauterized at least a little bit.

Before the Bahamutt can stomp on your prone form, something small and red darts into your peripheral.

You watch as the dragon crumbles the stones beneath the carpet, now thankfully out of reach. A few sharp stones manage to rain down on you, but you’re more concerned with how the monster notices your escape with slitted eyes. It rears back, jaws open and the back of it’s throat alights with fire—

Shyster chants something watery, and the space surrounding the Bahamutt distorts in time with echoed musical notes.

The fire in the dragon’s throat dies, much to its apparent confusion.

It’s then when you notice that, in his bid to get you to safety, Shyster forfeited his hefty mace which rests on the other side of the corridor. He’s practically defenseless, now.

You make a split-second decision when the Bahamutt decides to charge at the two of you armed with nothing but its fangs and claws.

Ignoring the sharp pains lacing up and down your body at the motion, you fling a single arm out while the other draws Shyster back. Your magic rushes forward in a whirlwind of pale blue light, engulfing the Bahamutt in its turbulent grasp. You shove as much _oomph_ into the Waterspout as you can, until the winds it’s producing are nearly enough to blow you back, even as far as you are.

With a mighty lift, you encourage the spell to slam the entrapped Bahamutt down onto the Chester as you did with the Axem Rangers and their Breaker Beam.

The end result is pretty similar: a massive fiery explosion.

Once the dust settles, both of the monsters are nowhere to be seen. If you look close enough, you do notice a smouldering pile of ashes and a few splinters of wood.

You heave a massive sigh and lean back, energy drained.

“...remind me to never get on your bad side,” Shyster quips from behind you. After a moment where he helps you back onto your shaky legs and retrieves his weapon, he eyes you. “Are you okay? Obviously we need to go get some proper healing back with the others, but if you need some support—”

Heart still hammering away from the adrenaline, the first words falling from your lips are, “Dude, I just got mauled by a _dragon_. Kinda kickass, r-right?”

Shyster’s eye holes squint ever so slightly. Shaking his head, he quips, “Typical.” He also mutters something about “brains and brawns,” but you let it slide.

The two of you limp through the final set of red doors, where a tiny room with a single floating chest awaits. Shyster takes one look at your quivering knee before hopping up and retrieving your prize.

“...huh.” He turns over the mechanical module, pawing at the star-shaped tip. “Looks like a new weapon for Mr. Spirit; hopefully he’s savvy enough to install it.”

“Hopefully,” you echo. “Pretty sure that’s the strongest weapon for him.”

Shyster scoffs. “How convenient.”

You don’t say anything, but find it sorta funny how a natural denizen of this world can snark at its contrived attributes. Like, dude, what about whatever’s holding up all those floating blocks or chests? Oop, wait; _magic_. The same stuff flowing through you right now. Duh.

As soon as you walk through another set of doors and stumble into the room with the six doors, the rest of the group looks up with varying levels of interest.

“What took you so long?! Mario and Mallow decided to take care of the fourth one already...” Bowser grumbles before tapering off, seemingly noticing how beat up you and Shyster are.

As Toadstool stumbles to your side, her warm healing magic a welcome feeling, Shyster tosses the Star Gun at Geno. “Here you go, dollface. ‘S not often you get to reap the rewards off the backs of others.”

“That’s ironic, given your...profession,” Geno snipes back just a fast, already fiddling with the contraption. Shyster makes an odd sound, probably of begrudging agreement.

As Geno installs his new weapon, Toadstool both worries and fumes over all your injuries. Her magic weaves most of your wounds shut before you tell her to conserve it for the few upcoming battles. Some back and forth ensues where you describe, much to Bowser’s shock, that one of those fights will be against Kamek.

“Good to know,” Geno says, arms shifting into his new weapons. “But considering how you and Shyster endured the second battle course, perhaps you should leave the upcoming battles to us.”

“Dollface is right,” Bowser grumbles much to the spirit’s annoyance. Eyeing your tattered and bloodstained shirt, he huffs, “We got the other battle course, but those chumps were nothin’ compared to my brute strength, _gwar har har_!”

The princess rolls her eyes. “Sure, say nothing about how I was there to heal your injuries or how we had three in our group.”

Bowser grumbles a bit before turning to you again. “So Sharkbait, what the heck happened to ya? You look like you got put through the ringer.”

You shrug, rolling your shoulders when the motion stretches your taut muscles; still a bit sore. “Almost got bisected by some Yoshi-lookin’ dragon. Must’ve thought I looked tasty...hey, wait a sec! _Ha ha_, get it? Sharkbait! Even if Bahamutt isn’t a shark…”

You sputter a bit more at Shyster’s narrowed eyes, then snort when he _tsks_. “Don’t mind the dumb joke; they got knocked around a bit during the last encounter. Hate to admit it, but having plumber boy around would’ve really helped, since I’m pretty sure all those chest-like enemies are weak to a good jump.”

Toadstool shudders. “You fought one of those things? _Ugh_, they give me the creeps...but I thought Sharkbait was bit by a dragon?”

Shyster grunts. “It summoned a couple...what were those things called again? Bahamutts? Those things give _me_ the creeps…_ugh_, Yoshis…”

You can’t but grin when Bowser paws Shyster’s head affectionately, rumbling laughter caught in his maw. Despite how the princess verbally wonders how someone couldn’t like the docile dinosaurs, you sit back and watch Shyster sputter some more under his breath in his own tongue. Like you, Geno seems happy enough watching from the sidelines.

As Bowser and Shyster pull Toadstool into a heated debate over the pros and cons of Yoshis - “Boshi was an ass and you know it!” Bowser griped - Geno finds his way over to you.

Sitting himself down, he sighs. You follow his line of sight and see the three ‘X’ marks on three of the six doors.

“So which one did Mario and Mallow do?”

Geno raises a brow before commenting, “Mario hardly speaks, but Mallow said they got one of the obstacle courses with the lava. Lucky, considering Mallow hardly weighs anything and Mario can just...leap and bound to the finish with minimal difficulty. In fact, that’s his claim to fame up on Star Road.”

“Jumpman himself,” you add with a smirk.

You train of thought escapes and you balk a little. Turning, you can only hope your face isn’t showcasing the horror that’s beginning to seep into your vessels. “Hey, uh, weird question, but...do you know _how_ I know things?”

Geno offers you an odd look. “You mean why you’re a seer?”

At your nod, he gains a contemplative outlook. Crossing his arms, he admits, “No, not really. Again, not surprising considering my rank and the fact your...situation is considered so far up the ladder it’s a surprise at all I heard anything. What I _do_ know is that your foreknowledge has something to do with the fact you’re from a different world, which, honestly, is a given.” His mouth twitches into a small grimace. “The Star Road connects _all_ worlds, give or take.”

You can’t help the small snort at Geno’s irate tone. His red eyes roll in response.

“Is there a particular reason why I should know?” he asks after a beat.

_Well, yeah_, you want to say. _Nothing like discovering you’re nothing more than fictitious characters whose entire livelihoods have been put in place for nothing more than entertainment value toward an unseen audience. And also I know everything because this is all just some story for, again, entertainment on my behalf_.

Like that’ll blow over well with him...or anyone, really.

Even so, the Grand Stars must know of...all that stuff. Probably why they keep it hush-hush up there too; can’t let others know they’re just fancy figments of imagination! Talk about an existential crisis.

You avoid his probing stare to admire the view of bland, cobbled bricks. You eye the other three, still lost in their own conversation, but lower your voice just to be certain. “Uhhh...no. Just...maybe don’t ask about it until I’m dead and gone, yeah? It’s...I don’t really want things to change between us. Y’know.”

Geno hums under his breath. “Like you and Shyster.”

“...yeah. Pretty much exactly that.”

Leaning back, he says, “While I can’t deny my curiosity, it’s the least I can do. So, don’t worry; I don’t know anything about your foreknowledge. Even if I doubt it will change my perception of you.”

Your smile turns crooked. “You can’t know for sure, and that’s why...y’know. Things would change and I...well, some things are left better unsaid. _Particularly_ when it comes to my foreknowledge.”

A wooden hand pats your shoulder. You side-eye Geno and he smiles at you. “Like I said, I won’t question it. But just so we’re on the same page, you’re still my friend...even when you feel the need to hide something.” He shakes his head a bit. “We’re all entitled to our privacy, despite how they seem to sprout up all the time on Star Hill. Sometimes makes me thankful us spirits don’t have our wishes on display, _heh_.”

You pause, wanting to comment something dumb to lift the mood or move the conversation somewhere less heavy. In the end you settle for shrugging, crooked smile still in place. “But the Grand Stars don’t...do what they do out of malice, right?”

Removing his head, Geno nods. “Of course. They’re still star spirits, and we _all_ just want what's best for others. Maybe having your wishes on display will make it easier for them to be granted by those you love instead of us. Regardless, it’s my duty as not only a spirit but as your friend to listen and, in this case, abide by your wants. So: I won’t question your foreknowledge or betray your trust, I swear.”

You try to not crumple under the abrupt feeling of relief. Your smile grows until it’s nearly splitting your face. “Oof. Thanks. It’s kinda funny being called a seer though, considering my world doesn’t even have magic.” _Oopsies, there goes your oversharing ass yet again_.

But Geno grins like he knows something you don’t. “Did you not hear what I said? The Star Road connects _all_ worlds, meaning our magic exists in all places—your world included. Even if you don’t know of it.”

You sniff. “...makes a lot of sense, considering...y’know, everything. Must be why Shyster called me the brawn to his brains.”

And Geno actually laughs; really _laughs_ for a few seconds. It’s sorta weird and, if you’re being honest, he sounds like a dork. But you don’t say anything, just appreciating how genuinely happy he looks.

And if you keep appreciating the laughs coming from everyone else for the time being, well, it’s time well spent in your book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta say, I'm super glad you guys enjoyed (_ha ha_) that last chapter! Hopefully the expectations I built up for the reader weren't without warrant. 
> 
> Even so, the show must go on! We're in the final stretch!!
> 
> Hope you guys like it!!


	21. Into the Depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So many ups and downs it might as well be a roller-coaster!

Thankfully but also kinda not, Mario and Mallow return in short order. They don’t look beat up too much, but it’s not like they could’ve gotten a third battle round. Beyond that, you’re pretty sure you and Shyster got the hardest of the ‘fight’ ones.

Your knee is still busted, so you shift most of your weight onto your good one as you listen to Mallow. Apparently, they got one of the trivia ones where they had to answer a bunch of questions regarding their journey.

“And it’s probably a good thing we got that one,” the prince chirps. “After all, me and Mario have been travelin’ together since the beginning of this whole mess. Some of those questions were about stuff that happened all the way back in the Mushroom Kingdom! Plus we picked up a Rock Candy at the end.”

Toadstool eagerly converses some more with the Nimbian before he lets it slip that the Hammer Bro responsible for all the questions mentioned the keep’s inhabitants were obeying “the Magikoopa’s orders.”

“Magikoopa?” Bowser perks up and eyes the prince. “Did they say anythin’ else?”

Mallow shakes his head. “Nope. Sorry.”

A small nudge against your side is enough to cause a drawl to escape. Now at the center of everyone’s attention, you give Shyster a quick look before explaining, “Yeah, the Hammer Bro’s talking about Kamek. As far I know, he’s currently brainwashed or something similar. But! Not to worry! We, uh…”

You eye Bowser and his narrowed eyes. “...well, we’re gonna go fight him shortly and once we beat him, he’ll be back to normal…? At least that’s what’s _supposed_ to happen, _ehehe_...please don’t hurt me big guy.”

The Koopa just lets out a coarse sound. “...well, as long as he’ll be back to normal. _Tch_, stupid Smithy and his dumb lackeys...always makin’ things difficult for us of the Koopa Troop—”

The room abruptly shudders and you can’t help but flinch. _Earthquake_…?!

But an obscene grinding sound accompanies the shaking and you look to one of the walls. You watch the gray bricks shift and move like puzzle pieces until a new set of red doors stands where previously there was nothing.

“...huh. How convenient,” Shyster surmises blandly.

You wobble a bit in place; damn knee. “Well, we _did_ accomplish four of the six obstacle courses _hyUP_—!”

You feel yourself flush in embarrassment as Shyster snickers from below, but maintain your scared grip on Bowser’s bicep. The king of Koopas doesn’t really bother looking at you when he crows, “Alrighty; the sooner we get through this place the sooner I can reclaim both my home _and_ my troops, _gwar har har_…!”

You’re left gripping onto Bowser’s shell as he saunters past everyone else. You don’t ruminate on the various looks of bemusement you’re getting for hitching a ride, but manage to stick your tongue out at both Shyster and Geno.

Without missing a beat, Bowser stomps over to the door, busts it open, and marches through it. You barely have the time to gain purchase on his scaly body before he takes a leap off the ledge because the door is hanging, like, three entire stories above the actual floor. What the f—

You look to the side, a glint of reflected light catching your attention. You see your reflection in a single window, clutching onto Bowser as the two of you freefall.

Details are muddled alongside the light of the overhanging chandelier, but you look positively revolting: burnt clothes, bloodstains up and down your body, soot-covered skin. But beyond the muck, you actually look _happy_.

It’s been a while since your eyes were lit up as they are now.

You barely catch a split-second glimpse of a grin of audacity before you and Bowser fall out of the window’s sight.

Bowser lands with a small grunt and despite how winded you are, you snark a bit about almost getting eviscerated on his shell’s numerous spikes. He just snarks back that you’ve lived through tougher things, “like gettin’ stabbed by that Yaridovich guy or almost gettin’ bit in half by some dragon.” You end the conversation with a grunt of your own.

Mario is the next to leap down in his trademark “wahoo!” fashion, sans the “wahoo.” Geno is cool and leaps down undisturbed by his jarring landing, Toadstool floats down alongside Mallow with her parasol, and Shyster is left slowly sliding down the wall.

As Bowser sets you down in a surprisingly - or not, given how soft he actually is - gentle manner, Geno asks, “Is there anything we should know about Kamek before engaging him?”

Before you can get a word in, Bowser huffs that he’s a powerful Magikoopa but shouldn’t be “too much trouble” to beat some sense into. This is, of course, despite the Koopa’s obvious reservations, if his taut stance and overtly gruff tone are anything to go by. Figures, what with Kamek being his sole parental figure.

“If he’s the same guy we saw during our obstacle course, then we’re probably gonna be fighting some other monsters too,” Shyster pipes up. You nod in agreement.

Bowser barely nods before slamming the next pair of doors open, revealing a single room with two sets of doors on the other side.

In a poof of smoke, Kamek appears in his red-robed glory. His staff twinkles with turbulent magic that crackles like lightning, but feels both hot and cold. A quick glance at the young prince shows his distaste for the alien feeling too.

You barely have the chance to drop off your bag behind another of those Terrapin statues before Kamek swings his staff, inciting a massive cloud of smoke.

Where only the Magikoopa stood before was now occupied by not one, but _three_ Bahamutts. What even—

You yip, forced to duck when one immediately casts Flame Stone onto you. And just like that, you find yourself back in business; well, business if you’re a self-insert given convenient powers to stop the forces of evil and all that.

Thankfully, with seven against three - Kamek poofed away - the Bahamutts go down relatively easily. Then again, you _did_ tell Mallow they’re weak against ice magic. But that’s not what actually kills them; Snowy, that is.

Instead, Mallow had gathered some potent magic and, after a quick proclamation that he’ll do his dad proud, he cast fricken’ _Star Rain_ on the dragons. Unlike back in Nimbus Land where the spell was pretty unexpected, this time it’s not only unexpected but far, far more dangerous. The conjured star drops onto the three massive enemies at once, crushing them with a multitude of stomps. But soon Mallow’s concentration waned and the star shimmered out of existence, leaving one Bahamutt alive but wounded severely.

Geno retracts his arms, hands shifting back into place. He eyes them for a second before commenting, “You really weren’t kidding when you said these would be stronger than my other weapons.”

You hurl two more Diamond Saws at the last Bahamutt, thoroughly enjoying how it goes up in smoke. “Live it up, buddy; at least some of us get upgrades. Also, Mallow! Yo, that was crazy! Your dad taught you Star Rain?!”

Mallow catches his breath and grins at you. “Yup! It takes a lot outta me, through. Figured I’d test it out again!”

You just hurl a thumbs-up at him before shifting your attention back to Geno.

He actually has the audacity to scoff, eyeing the smoke which slowly dissipates. “...your magical abilities seem ‘upgraded’ plenty. You probably do most of the damage around here, probably due to your...inability to restrain yourself.”

“It’s called _practice_. Or more realistically, getting my butt handed to me _way_ too many times. Do or die, my dude, do or die.”

“Wouldn’t be a problem if you actually applied your foreknowledge,” Shyster quips, still surveying the empty room. “You just jump headfirst into battle ‘cause hardly anything resists non-elemental magic. It’s probably why dollface here flings his lasers about haphazardly.”

You and Geno share a quick look before you go, “_Ehhh_...he’s got a point y’know.”

Kamek reappearing interrupts Geno rolling his eyes at you. But before literally anyone else can fling their weapons or spells at the lone Magikoopa, one feisty plumber immediately leaps toward Kamek. He’s quick to swiftly plant his boots into the Magikoopa’s face with a sickening _crunch_.

Kamek is sent flying into the opposite wall where he lands in a heap. Before Bowser can get after Mario for hurting the guy too much or before the plumber can go for round two, you step forward and hold up your hands.

Slowly but surely, Kamek’s robes transform from scarlet to sapphire.

“Oof...my word…” Kamek grumbles before shaking his head slowly. He looks up and it appears the damage from Mario’s feet mostly affected the Magikoopa’s glasses, which are cracked six ways from Sunday.

Shakily, he fiddles with them for a second before he casts a quick spell on them. Once they’re back in place, Kamek finally looks up at your group, shifting from one to another until his sights land on Bowser.

“Bowser? I mean, my liege…! I…” Kamek struggles to stand, claw looking for the scepter resting several feet away. “Oh dear, what’s happened in my absence? I thought you had some of the Koopa Troop, and you...you…”

Bowser snaps outta it and rushes to Kamek’s side, smashing the scepter along the way; that odd magic also dissipates. Helping the older Koopa up, the burly giant is gentle when he growls, “Don’t worry about it; a lot’s happened while you were out. It’s...it’s good to have you back, Kamek.”

“My, how you’ve grown, my liege…!”

You stand amongst the others awkwardly as the two reunite. Despite how elated they are and how supportive everyone else is, including Mario ‘lone slayer of Koopas’ Jumpman is, you...you can’t stop the swell of ugly emotions. _Jealousy_, your mind immediately corrects.

Because seeing both Kamek and Bowser attempting to wrap their arms around one another in an actual, loving embrace is...it’s something you’ve wanted for a long, long time. Or at least that’s what you feel, given how your heart seems to contort painfully behind your ribs at the sight, like it’s aching for something you’ve lost.

The saddest part, you think, is that you actually don’t really remember being hugged like that. But from how cold your shoulders are, your body certainly recalls the sensation.

They love each other so much—it’s obvious at a glance. Even if you didn’t already realize this is a reunion between guardian and child, it’d still be obvious they’re family. And you—didn’t you just equate Bowser being a part of your family? Why can’t you just be happy for his sake? Why are you still caught up in your bulls—

A small pressure against your thigh. Despite his warm touch, Shyster doesn’t look at you when he says, “We’ve come pretty far, including the big guy, huh?”

You say nothing, too caught in your self-hatred.

Bowser breaks away from Kamek and, after quickly wiping his eyes, turns around to face you all. Still addressing the Magikoopa, he admits, “Well, as you can see, I’ve made a new and improved Koopa Troop; it was thanks to them that I got here. So...yeah. They helped me a ton, too.”

Despite how your heart throbs in excitement and your mind screams _validation_, you just return Kamek’s curiosity with a wavering smile. Because, at the end of the day, validation is everything you’ve striven for thus far. Sure, physical validation is obvious, but verbal? The gratitude that both Mallow and Bowser has shown you? Irreplaceable.

All the ‘_I’m useful_’s and ‘_I did something right_’s drown your doubts, even if for a moment. But you also know enough to realize how addictive that gratification is, how destructive you can be in search of it.

You lied to Shyster in the beginning, downplayed things so he’d stick around. You’ve omitted key details and dropped hints at integral parts to extend your usefulness to the others. You’ve hurt yourself time and time again, just to prove that you deserve to be by their sides.

Hurting others isn’t something you want to do anymore; Johnny taught you that much. But if you’re the one hurting, if you’re the one to bear that burden...it’s fine. Because at that point you’re just repaying the debts you’ve accrued by lying to the others by not just being 100% honest with them. Because you deserve it.

This isn’t a dream, or a nightmare. It’s your life...or rather, what remains of it.

So you push down those yearnings to manipulate, to lie, to pretend to be more useful, and lock them away deep inside. If they surface, who knows what depths you’ll fall in order to sustain them.

All that matters is keeping up with everyone else, no matter what.

The warmth that comes with the praise lingers pitifully, but you revel in it regardless as Bowser appraises everyone. But when he comes up to you only to palm your head in a rough noogie-like fashion with the comment, “Thanks for leading me home, Sharkbait,” well, that praise reignites.

You’re left a blushing, mute mess as both Shyster and Geno laugh at your expense. Even as you shrink into your bandana, you can’t help the genuine smile that breaks your cheeks. It’s no hug, but it’ll do.

Hah, yeah, your lingering doubts can suck it. Helping others - and being thanked for said help - just feels nice. At least you can comfort yourself with the knowledge you’re helping to save Mario’s world. Like, that’s insane! Who would’ve thought some schmuck like you would ever do something as crazy as saving a world?!

Sure, you were explicitly given a body imbued with the magic necessary to carry out _your_ mission; rather, your side of the bargain. But...it also gave you the opportunity to form close bonds with everyone else, including those you never expected: Mr. Shroomby, Shyster, Stitches, Stripes, Knife Guy, Grate Guy, those two Shy Guys, and even _Johnny_.

And what did Johnny tell you? _Don’t dwell_.

You need to learn to just...live in the moment, like you did in the beginning. Saving the world and everyone in it - including your new family and all the others you’ve befriended along the way - is the _least_ you can do. For everything.

“For being such a tough guy on the outside,” Shyster says below you, “Bowser’s a pretty nice guy in reality, huh?”

“Sure,” Geno agrees before nodding over to where the king of Koopas is currently butting heads with Mario, while Mallow and Toadstool try to mediate; Kamek just looks happy for his charge. “If your name isn’t Mario, that is.”

“Given the plumber’s perchance for stomping both him and his minions, I’m not too surprised.”

Geno just sighs good-naturedly. “Of course. Although we star spirits aren’t supposed to reveal personal wishes, we’ve gotten _many_ regarding the general wellbeing of a certain Koopa’s underlings. And after seeing how he treated those who deserted him for Monstro Town’s sanctuary, well, it’s certainly more believable than one might suspect. I was probably the only one in the beginning who believed in his actions, despite how aggressively he carried them out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t find his and Mario’s rivalry annoying,” the doll finishes with a smug look. And as you three watch Bowser and Mario abruptly turn from one another, arms crossed and huffing, Geno laughs under his breath. “But those times seem so far away.”

Shyster scoffs, but there’s no bite to it. “Who would’ve thought a bunch of misfits like us would’ve fit together so...well, not _easily_, but we get along well enough. I’m honestly a bit surprised, but I won’t deny it’s...a nice change of pace. For me, at least. Beats getting ostracized all the time.”

“Yeah,” Geno breathes, looking between the others and you. “It’s...is this what a family feels like…?”

Surprisingly enough, the question doesn’t strike a chord. You find yourself smiling as you ask, “Does hanging around these guys make you happy? Do you feel like you belong here, with them? Like,” you press a palm against your rapid heart, enjoying how warm and...and _full_ it feels. “—a puzzle piece clicking into place. Least...that’s what it feels like for me, _ehe_.”

Geno pauses, eyes roaming over the room and the others, who’ve once against begun their usual antics. A small smile graces his wooden lips and he nods. “Yeah. Being here, with everyone else—getting to experience things like they do...it’s irreplaceable. And that applies to you too, y’know.”

Aaand your embarrassed flush returns full-force. “Uh, okay. Sure. Thanks.”

Shyster _psshes_. “Dorks, the both of ya.”

“Aww,” you coo, leaning down to noogie the Shy Guy, “is someone feelin’ left out? C’mere, you tiny bastard.”

As Shyster angrily squawks and retorts something in his own language - nothing too nice, you’re sure - Geno watches with a bemused expression. It then falls into a typical rolling of his red eyes, then a crossing of his arms.

“I still find it odd how the two of you get along so well,” Geno finally comments as you idly rub your shin; Shyster’s got a mean kick. “Or, I guess how the two of you show affection. It’s...different compared to what I know. And then there’s the fact family is more often than not dictated by blood relations…”

You and Shyster share a quick look. You go a step further to make sure Mallow can’t hear you before you shrug and say, “We’re both assholes so it works out just dandy—_yeowch_! See what I mean? And as for blood relations, well…”

You trail off, suddenly aware of the fact you’ll never see your real—no, your _other_ family. Like Geno and Shyster said, everyone here is basically a big family.

Your hurt must show because Shyster is quick to intervene. “Family is whoever you want it to be, dollface. Nothing more, nothing less. Companionship at its most simplistic.”

Geno blinks. He flexes his wooden fingers; the motions are fluid. “...huh. That makes a lot of sense, actually. We star spirits don’t really...we aren’t that close. The closest we get is when we’re tasked with granting a surface-dweller’s wish. I’ve always been interested in that sort of companionship, but most other spirits find enough joy doing our jobs. I have to admit I don’t regret coming down here, even if…”

He trails off and you and Shyster exchange a look. The chances of Shyster already knowing that Geno has to return to Star Road once everything’s said and done is probably 99.99%. Still doesn’t make it any easier for the little guy, especially since it’s also been established you’re gonna fuck off, too. Just...permanently.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, you pipe up, “Can’t you just…I dunno, come and visit once in a while? I mean, you’re pretty much saving your entire world, so surely the Grand Stars can be lenient with you?”

Geno smiles sadly. “I’m afraid it doesn’t really work like that. I’m not—I belong to the Star Road; I was never meant to be a part of this world.” He pauses and you bring yourself to nod; just because you understand, doesn’t mean to have to like it. “But I can at least comfort myself with the memories I never would’ve had the chance to make otherwise. And I’ll still be helping, just...not as noticeably.”

You cross your arms. You’re about to make another quip about how shitty the Star Road operates before Shyster taps your shoe with his own. You settle for slapping on a disgruntled look and remaining silent.

Geno seems to notice anyway. “Although I’m touched you’re frustrated on my behalf, it’ll be fine. If anything, I can bring back the understanding that I’ve learned down here, maybe even teach the other spirits something. Maybe then our worlds won’t have to be so separated. It’s worth a shot, at least.”

“Wow,” Shyster peers up at Geno, eye holes lidded slightly, “you’re tellin’ me all the other spirits up there are as stuffy as you were in the beginning?”

Geno remembers himself to shoot a quick glare down before looking away with a grimace. “...well, there was another spirit who got too curious for his own good and left. He brought back some things after hopping through who knows how many dimensions, but the Grand Stars weren’t having any of it because…” He coughs into a fist. “Well, let’s just say that one was a lost cause; banished to who knows where. And honestly? Good riddance. _That_ opinion was from when I was ‘stuffy,’ mind you.”

You burst out in a fit of cackles before waving off both Geno and Shyster’s concerns. “Oh my god, just—nevermind. It’s not important.” _Right now, that is. Give or take another decade_.

“Still,” you ignore Shyster’s slitted eyes in favor of patting Geno’s shoulder, “I agree with Shyster here; I like you better when you’re not hounding me down and bullying me at every turn.”

Geno’s face twists and he looks between you two. “...he threatened to rob you.”

“Oh, like you weren’t a smartass in the beginning too.”

Shyster actually snorts at that and Geno just rolls his eyes. You snicker, adding on, “And let’s face it; the two of you are violence-inclined punks. Geno just happens to be more...I dunno, business about it. Like a hitman! I mean, what have we been doing all along but getting rid of Smithy’s goons? And soon, it’ll be time to take down the head honcho, _heh_.”

The two similar expressions of bemusement cause another fit of giggles to fall from your lips. And soon enough they join in the chorus with their own laughs, leaving your merry trio to revel in each other's company.

_Yeah_, you think, _this makes everything worth it_.

*** * * * * * ***

Thankfully, Kamek was nice enough to heal up everyone as a means of apologizing for his actions. “But that blasted scepter is no more, so I’ll be in my right mind from now on,” he said, conjuring another to take its place.

A quick meal later, your group unanimously decided to rest up for the night after you expunged the many, many difficult fights waiting for you just beyond the next room. Boomer, Exor, a repeat against all of Smithy’s admirals plus the Axem Rangers...those two Knife Guy and Grate Guy rip-offs, that dumb clock, the factory’s staff, Gunyolk...hot damn.

Sure, Bowser had smacked you upside the head for letting that last comment slip in front of Mallow, but funnier was the prince’s reaction: “Oh, don’t worry; Grandpa’s said worse when he thought I wasn’t listening.”

You also finally took Mallow up on his offer to teach how to aim your spells better. The two of you spend the better part of an hour just flinging spells around willy-nilly ‘cause true to form, Croco showed up again, packed to the brim with more Maple Syrups. The dumb purple crocodile even stuck around to watch the lesson before hopping out of a nearby window; you had waved, knowing it’d be the last time you’d see his mug.

“Y’know, you could’ve asked me back at Nimbus Land,” Mallow says, allowing his magic to disperse. “About helpin’ ya out with aiming.”

“Oh, nah.” You rub the back of your neck, still huffing and puffing. “I didn’t wanna interrupt your time with your parents; gotta make the most outta the time you’ve got, _ha ha_!”

The prince makes an odd sound, mouth pursed into a thin line. He opens and closes his mouth, like he wants to say something but its not sure how to go about it. “...hey, Sharkbait?”

“Hm? What’s up, lil’ guy?”

Despite how the corners of his mouth twitch up, he asks, “When we get the last Star Piece, you’re gonna go back home, right?”

You glance over at the others, still caught up in chatting amongst themselves. With a sigh, you go to the nearest Terrapin statue and use it as a makeshift chair. “...yeah. Why d’you ask?”

“It’s just…” Mallow bites his lip, glancing off to look at the others. Judging by his next words, you’re pretty sure he was looking at Geno. “I was talkin’ with my mom, an’ she said both you and Geno had missions given to you by the Star Road. Is...is that true?”

You think you know where this is going. “...yeah.”

“So if you’re going back home after we’re done collecting the Star Pieces, then Geno…”

Your arm moves on its own accord, palm hovering uncertainly over the prince’s small tuft of pink cloud.

It’s understandable, given that Geno was a part of the main group from early on, just like Mallow. Of course the two of them would be close—close enough for the empathetic little prince to mourn his loss.

Mallow’s hair is agonizingly soft. “...It’s not really my place to say, but...just keep on being his friend, yeah?”

The Nimbian’s eyes droop a bit. “So the both of you are goin’ to leave, then.”

What you decidedly _aren’t_ expecting is for the small puffball to launch himself at one of your legs, wrapping his arms around the calf. For being so soft, his grip sure is strong.

“‘M not gonna cry…!” _Oh. Oh no. What have you done_?! But despite trying to come up with some half-baked solution to stop his tears, Mallow just stutters on, “My ma made it sound like the both of ya are gonna leave forever…! Asked me if I treasured spendin’ time with all my friends and then told me to make more memories with ‘em!”

His face rubs against your leg before shooting up to look at you tearfully. “B-but the Star Road brought you both here, so th-then the two of you could visit from time to time, right?! It can’t be that hard...promise me you’ll visit; please!”

It’s surprisingly easy to quell your own misgivings about your situation when faced with someone else’s doubts. Falling to the floor, you wrap your arms around the small boy. Never one to really promise things—things you couldn’t even keep no matter how much you wanted to, you sigh.

“...I’m sorry Mallow; it doesn’t work like that. Don’t get me wrong, though,” you smile wearily, “I’d love to stay here with everyone else. But...sometimes, things are out of your hands. And...I guess you’ve just gotta make the best out of the situation.

“Y’know, I think your mom was right.” At this, Mallow perks up, teary eyes glinting dangerously. You grin and bear it, trying to emulate the same kindness you found in the Queen’s gaze before. “The more time you stew over things that you can’t control, the less time you have to savor them. It’s like what Johnny told me: don’t dwell. Move on.”

“B-but…!” Mallow sniffles before seemingly remembering himself. Wiping his face and shaking his head, he continues, “No...no, you’re right, Sharkbait. There’re reasons for everythin’, at least that’s what Grandpa always told me. So I just gotta...make the most outta the time we have left together.”

There’s that strange insightfulness you’ve come to see within the small prince.

Mallow shakes himself once more, even going so far as to slap on a resolute expression. “It’s actually kinda funny when I think about it...sure, I talked a lot with my mom and dad, learned a lot about Nimbus Land...but we’re kinda alike, right? I mean, I grew up here on the surface even if I’m also a part of Nimbus Land—and who would’ve thought! And you too, Sharkbait; you’re from an entirely different world who’s got a home here now, too! Least, that’s what my parents said…

“I guess what I’m tryin’ to say,” the prince’s smile wavers, “is that we’ve both been lucky enough to have two places to call our home. I’ve got Tadpole Pond along with Grandpa and all the other tadpoles, and then I’ve got Mom and Dad up in Nimbus Land. And it seems like you’ve got a bunch of people rootin’ for you here, too!”

You return his smile with one of your own. Resisting the urge to glance over at Geno, you hum, “It is kinda funny, huh...we belong to multiple worlds. And you’re also right in that we’re really, really lucky.” You laugh a bit, ruffling the prince’s tiny mane. “Your mom and dad are awesome, by the way.”

Mallow rubs the back of his head bashfully. “Thanks. I’m lucky to have ‘em teaching me things...It’s kinda like you and Shyster, right?”

You pause. “...y’know, I never thought about it like that, but yeah. It’s super similar.”

Mallow’s smile grows despite how sad it seems. “Even if you and Shyster didn’t join us until later on, I always believed in you guys. I mean, you helped me an’ Mario out first...So thanks for coming along with us and bein’ our friends!”

And wow, suddenly your vision blurs so badly you can’t make out the puffball’s face anymore. “Ah—! Are ya okay, Sharkbait? I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” you grin, wiping away the wetness. “These are happy tears, that’s all.”

Mallow returns your smile with one of his own. “Yeah, I get it.”

And the two of you share a quick, heartfelt laugh. Who would’ve known all it’d take to dispel that sea of doubt inside you was a single heart-to-heart with Mallow? Because, at the end of the day, he’s right: you just need to make the most out of the time you have together. It’s so simple, yet you’ve missed it since the onset, too caught up abiding by your inherently selfish nature.

Mr. Shroomby and Johnny were right: _this_ is your home now, and _these_ are your friends and family, now. Don’t dwell; move on. Experience what the world has to offer. _Live_.

You wipe away the lingering stickiness from your cheeks before your eyes sweep over everyone else. Sentimental, but that’s who you've always been.

Yeah, your circumstances may be less than ideal, but you don’t regret your phrasing: you’re lucky. Lucky to have had the opportunity to be by everyone’s sides without dragging them down to the depths you’ve made a home from. Lucky that what you believed to be the last parts of your existence - that bitter cold - won’t be repeated a second time. Lucky you can bathe in everyone else’s brilliance for the time being.

Once the two of you have banished the lingering doubts and wetness staining your eyes, you make you way back to the others. The next hour or so before bedtime, you spend just...chatting away, conversations benign.

It’s only when everyone retreats to the nearby rooms where guest beds are set up that you realize: this is probably your last night here. Tomorrow...you’ll finish everything. And then—

“Hey, Shyster…?”

The Shy Guy turns to you after waving goodbye to Bowser. The look on your face must betray some trepidation, because his mask shifts ever so slightly. But he remains silent, sensing the lingering question.

Eyeing his backpack and the bedroll strapped on top, your tongue fumbles over itself. “C-can we—I mean, I’d...can we set up your tent, for old time’s sake…?”

Shyster nods firmly. “Yeah, sure. Where d’you want to set up?”

You’re thankful for the quiet between you as you fall into what used to be routine. None of the others who linger about say anything either, which is a blessing for your fraying nerves. It’s difficult enough occupying yourself with Smithy, but thinking about the after...well.

Soon enough, both you and Shyster have laid out your beds inside the familiar green walls, a small lantern flickering between you.

The borrowed quilt is wrapped around yourself, but you barely feel any warmth. You know what you need to do, and you don’t have the luxury of delaying it any further.

“...I—”

“It’s fine.”

You blanch, a bit frustrated at how quickly Shyster shot you down. But he’s also quick to shake his head, explaining, “Like I’ve said before, don’t feel pressured to tell me anything you aren’t comfortable with. But if you need to get something off your chest, I’m here.”

For as blunt as he is, Shyster sure has a way to make you feel both stifled and free. How could you not possibly divulge something personal to him after everything you’ve been through? Plus, he’s super rational and knows how to navigate through your turbulent emotions better than you ever could.

“Don’t feel obligated,” he repeats quietly, the tiny flame casting flickering shadows over his stoic mask. “Especially if you’re going to regret it.”

“It’s too late for regrets,” comes out before you have the chance to filter them. Deciding to go with the flow because you trust Shyster, you admit, “There’s already too many things I regret, so what’s one more?”

Shyster’s eyes tilt slightly, a sign he’s peeved at your words. But he doesn’t do much else, simply shifting on his bedroll. “...what’s on your mind?”

You know him well enough he’s giving you an out. He’s probably well aware of your limited time here and your feelings about the matter—the feelings you’ve showcased since the beginning. Luckily, only Geno bore the brunt of all your pent-up frustration. And you for him, but that’s besides the point.

As it stands, you’ve come too far to blow up on poor Shyster who, for all his intelligence and observation, doesn’t seem to realize his best friend’s a ghost.

You sigh, low and drawn. You curl into your quilt more, hugging your pillow close. As your eyes trace the various marine-inspired patterns adorning the pillowcase you bought back in Seaside Town, your breath shakes. “I-I...I know I shouldn’t waste what’s left of my time here regretting, but...it’s hard. It’s hard growing up enough to realize all the mistakes you’ve made, and it’s harder knowing you can’t ever take them back.”

You can feel Shyster’s gaze pierce you. “Fixing past wrongs won’t solve anything but your peace of mind. The ‘what-ifs’ only matter if you’re going to use them to better yourself; _that’s_ what’s important. So...do you want to know what I think?”

A worn smile tugs at your lips, in spite of your reservations. It’s always dangerous allowing Shyster’s mind to catch up to all the things you’ve left behind. You nod.

“Does it involve your family?” You freeze, eyes wide. Shyster pauses briefly before asking, “The family from your world?”

Your next breath is even shakier. “Huh-_how_…?”

It’s Shyster’s turn to sigh. “...maybe it’s ‘cause of me being a Shy Guy, having a good read on what others are feeling, but maybe it’s also due to my own upbringing. I’m probably prying too much, but there’s a reason why you don’t want to go back home; your original home.”

Something stings at the back of your eyes. “...no, you’re right. My family…” The words are unfamiliar on your tongue for all you’ve spoken about them. “...do you know what a broken home is?”

Shyster’s answer is a penetrating gaze followed by a single nod.

“Then you probably know where this is going.” Your tone is light but the dread sits like a stone in your gut. “It...I guess it’s not technically a broken home, but it might as well be. I-I mean, if everyone’s unhappy under the same roof, it—it still counts, right? Like, I’m here now, I’ve been here, a-and even on the Sunken Ship—Stitches and Stripes and hell, e-even _Johnny_...they showed open affection for each other, and y’know what? That’s—_fuck_—!”

You scrub at the newest wave of tears, hating how watery they make your words. “I-I already talked about this with Geno, bu-but…! It’s stupid and selfish, a-and _you’d_ understand most of all, I think. Back on the Sunken Ship, I—I treated you like shit, and I…!”

Shyster is patient, knowing enough that your outburst is yours alone, so he waits for you to blubber out your regrets. And you do.

You expunge the same things you told Geno, how you had tried your damndest to keep your breaking family together because that was your normal and you didn’t want to change. You didn’t care or even worse, didn’t _think_ about their happiness as opposed to yours, too caught up in you, you, you. And while your attempts at playing the fool worked on a surface-level, they were mere band-aids to the rift that your family became. Your antics did nothing worthwhile, save for depreciating yourself because you failed, you failed and now everyone’s trapped in a loveless atmosphere.

You tell Shyster how your wasted efforts grew into a bitterness that you carry with you to this day, because how _dare_ they take away your happiness at the same time they killed their own? You promised yourself you’d never need anyone ever again, because if your own family didn’t care then who else would, right? But being alone hurt, and you couldn’t slip off the mask you had crafted in your haste to stitch everyone together again. Because being starved for attention, for validation, for _affection_ is one of the worst feelings you’ve ever endured, and that lasted nearly a decade.

A decade of your life spent hating everyone for your unfair circumstances, and hating yourself for hating.

“They were their own people with their own problems, and I never _realized_…!” you hiss, furiously wiping away your tears. “I just—Johnny called me selfish and y’know what? He’s right, because I pulled the same damn stunt with you: lying and lying and manipulating just so _someone_ would stay; _really_ stay. Ah-and I...I…!”

You try to catch your breath for the next few minutes, and Shyster slowly worms his way over to your side. He doesn’t touch you, but the warmth from his small body is more than enough.

Eventually, when your shuddering breaths even out somewhat, Shyster speaks.

“I know Johnny called you selfish, but did he ever frame it in a bad light?”

You pause, hating the fuzziness that comes with emotional exhaustion. You shake your head, remembering how he had mentioned he could respect you for that particular trait.

Shyster's tone is light. “Figured as much; he’s a pirate, after all. But jokes aside, I can understand your motivations for doing what you’ve done.” He shakes his head. “Maybe this is the thief talking, but I wouldn’t call your actions selfish; more possessive than anything. Just seems like you were possessive of your happiness.

“And when that was threatened...Living alongside others who have what you _had_...well, it’s hard playing catch-up to others who aren’t aware they’re in the game at all,” he says. “Wanting happiness after it was taken away isn’t bad, and it doesn’t sound like your actions were malicious, just...driven by loneliness. You wanted your family to be happy again. Sure, it would’ve been for your benefit, but no one loses in the end. Is it really so bad when it’s put like that?”

You open your mouth to instinctively contradict him, but no words come. Finally, you settle on a wavering smile. “...you’ve put words to these stupid feelings I’ve had for years; figured it out when I couldn’t. And I _tried_.”

“You know what they say: the first part to solving a problem is admitting you have one,” Shyster states. He shifts a bit, warmth filling the chill under your quilt. “...is there a reason why you’re so sure you can’t fix what you think went wrong?”

You purse your lips, knowing the next words will be lies. “...some things just can’t be repaired. They have their lives and I have my own. And that’s fine—it has to be.”

The words linger uncomfortably. Because the truth is you’ve had time to come to terms with your goodbye.

You go on. “Even when it was just me and my beach...sure, I wasn’t really alone, going to a school where there were plenty of others sharing similar interests, but...I never bothered reaching out. Promised myself I didn’t need anyone else. It was a farce, but one I desperately believed in for the sake of my sanity, really. Out of everyone, I fooled myself most of all.

“Not that others didn’t try reaching out, but I’d forgotten how to—to just _be_,” you admit, shrugging. “Because at the end of the day, no one would like the real me. _I_ don’t like the real me.”

“I dunno,” Shyster drawls, “but I like to think I know you well enough. Like I’ve said before, you don’t fool me with all your forced grins and deflecting jokes. The mask slips sometimes, but y’know what? It’s fine, because at the end of the day I enjoy you and your company. Nothing more, nothing less.”

A shuddering breath pushes past your teeth. “Hu-how can you be so sure? How can you be happy with, with a facade…?”

“Because I trust you.”

The next few tears fall soundlessly.

Leaning back, Shyster says almost dissmally, “I’ve always subscribed to the belief that actions speak louder than words. Looking back, it’s probably the reason why we didn’t get along in the beginning. But I also know you can’t really put blame on someone else for things out of your control; everyone’s circumstances are different, after all. And while it’s easier to assign blame to ease your own unrest, I also think it’s more rewarding to understand. To at least try.”

He shifts again and you gather the courage to look him in the face. Wordlessly, he extends a single hand. You grasp it without hesitation. Soft. _Warm_.

Shyster tone is surprisingly light when he shatters your expectations. There’s no new deal to be struck, or another agreement. Just simple reassurance.

“Everyone starts as strangers, and that includes family. People come together all the time, but they can also drift apart. That’s just life.

“Or fate, if you believe in it,” he admits in a snider way after a beat. “Who knows, maybe fate is just a fancy way to describe the path our choices make, given our circumstances. But my point’s the same: it’s our actions that determine such connections in the first place. _So_—”

Tenderly, he shakes your hand. “—that’s why I’m glad I opted to harass you on that hill, way back when. Even if you can’t stay, I’m still glad I got the chance to spend time alongside you.”

You squeeze the small hand like a lifeline. _How utterly simplistic, but how stupidly complicated_…

Your tears don’t stop, even as you grin at Shyster. His mask remains unreadable, but you repeat what you told Mallow earlier.

“Don’t worry; these are happy tears.”

Because at the end of the day, you _are_ happy; happier than you’ve been in a long, long time. And in spite of all your deceptions, the others still find solace in your company because they _care_. They’re _here_ and they’re _staying_.

Even if it was for a short time, you’re glad you got the chance to experience that sort of love once more.

To think you were lucky enough to be wanted, even taking into account all your shortcomings…

Regardless of how terrified you are of the end, sleep comes easy. Maybe it has to do with how you’re surrounded by the familiar green canvas of Shyster’s tent; your second home here, if you count Mr. Shroomby’s Mushroom Suite #3. Or maybe it has to do with Shyster himself, a small lump parallel to you whose mere presence calms the ocean of dread inside.

Cheeks sticky and eyelids puffy, you allow yourself to fall into the inky darkness of dreams.

If you’re lucky, your dreams can stand up to the one you’re currently living.

*** * * * * * ***

“In order to please my new superiors, this keep will remain theirs and I, their loyal servant!”

Despite being some funky one-off boss who doesn’t really impact the central plot, this Boomer sure loves monologuing during his fight. It’s nice from a creative perspective, but…

“Shut yer yap, will ya?!” Bowser growls, drilling his claws into the samurai’s thick armor. A horrendous screeching sound echoes over the sounds of skirmishing.

Boomer retaliates by digging the hilt of his sword into the Koopa’s belly, pushing him away. In the ensuing opening, Mario leaps into action, planting first his boots into the samurai’s helmet before swinging his mallet against it. Another metallic sound rings out, this time mimicking a gong.

When Boomer arcs his sword to get rid of the plumber, he nearly stumbles over himself; disoriented, then. But with both Mario and Bowser out of the way, you fling your Diamond Saws at the prone boss at the same moment a massive thunderbolt erupts from beneath him.

Once the lingering dust and debris from the combined spells dissipates, Boomer’s crouched low on the ground. You hear him begin another of his lines before Toadstool hovers by on her umbrella, with what looks like a multitude of bombs in her grasp. _Psyche Bomb_…?

“Geno!” she calls as he drops her cargo, and the spirit obeys the unspoken command, arm already shifting.

A Geno Beam rings out at the same moment the bombs rain down on the samurai, exploding them instantly. Boomer lets out a gruff sound of pain before being swallowed yet again by debris. It’s what he gets for fighting on the actual floor instead of on top of two precarious chandeliers held up by Shy Guys, but whatever.

Coughing, Boomer stands up again. This time he manages to get out, “Not yet...you haven’t defeated me yet! I will not bow, not when I’ve been given new purpose by the Smithy Gang…!”

You sense magic swirl around the samurai before he casts Blizzard. The ice magic ironically burns and true to form, slows your party’s speed because being cold sucks.

With a speed you aren’t expecting, Boomer makes a run toward Mallow. The prince notices and, thankfully resistant to magic, is able to fend off the boss’s Skewer with his own Froggie Stick. But then Boomer casts a point-blank Blast, sending Mallow crashing against the far statue of Bowser.

Even if Geno remembered himself enough to rain star-shaped bullets into Boomer, the boss doesn’t seem fazed. Instead, the samurai looks to his next target: you.

Your second set of Diamond Saws only graze him. He doesn’t flinch, which is proving to be scary since he’s currently raised his sword as if to swing down into you.

Luckily, a mace whizzes between you to knock the katana from Boomer’s grasp.

Before you can thank Shyster for his timely intervention, more magic gathers—underneath you. It’s familiar but the spell doesn’t belong to you. The last thing you see before your vision turns white is the small cyclone of magic pouring out of the floor, surrounding you.

Vertigo sucks, even more so when you land painfully on your ribs. Winded, you claw your way back up to your feet with a grimace; Storm _hurts_ when you’re the one being hit.

“That’s my spell…!” you growl lowly, already readying your own version. You unleash it when Mario rushes in again, taking Boomer’s attention away.

Mentally thanking Mallow for teaching you to aim better, your spell engulfs the samurai without touching the plumber. Gleefully, you watch the bulky boss fly up before landing painfully on his back. But then you realize you sent him back toward where his katana rests; oops.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter. With seven against one, Boomer puts up a pretty good fight but ultimately begins to lose. Even if he had turned blue with a Valor Up, his increased defenses couldn’t protect him from the onslaught of everyone’s attacks, including Toadstool’s.

With a final attack from Bowser, your party watches as the samurai goes into a coughing fit, kneeling on the broken floor.

Using the last of his energy, Boomer grits out, “Smithy...although it’s only been a short while, you offered me the means to have a true purpose. For that, I thank you...and I hope you can forgive my final choice to die on my own terms…!”

Boomer stands upright and, in one swift motion, plants his sword into the ground below.

And promptly explodes in Bowser’s face.

Once the dust settles, Bowser looks pretty singed but otherwise okay. He even gruffly admits, “Better me than any of your punks. Doubt you could’ve taken it, _gwar har har_!”

“Really? Bragging are we?” Toadstool’s magic flickers briefly. “If you’re such a tough guy, maybe I shouldn’t waste my magic on you…”

“Pr-Princess…! I, uh, I mean—I could take a lot more to protect you if I was in tip-top shape…!”

With Bowser blustering over himself in order to impress the princess as Mario watches closely, you peek at everyone else. Shyster’s doing some minor stretches by your side, and Geno’s currently making sure Mallow is alright. Once the spirit is done, he breezes past a nose-to-nose confrontation between the Koopa and plumber with a roll of his eyes.

“How are you holding up?” he asks once he’s in front of you.

You shrug. “A bit winded, but that’s pretty much it.”

Red eyes flicker to where Shyster lets out a snort of amusement, likely at Mario’s expense because Bowser just tripped the guy with a flick of his tail. The two of you watch as the Shy Guy barely glimpses at you before sauntering over to poke more fun at the plumber.

You deflate a bit; it is really that obvious Geno wants to talk with you alone…?

Geno seems to share your sentiments. He doesn’t comment, however, instead opting to lowly whisper, “Are you sure you’re okay? The things that guy was saying…”

Oh. Right.

You scratch your cheek. Just as quietly you reply, “I’m fine, really. If anything, the dude’s right: I need to die on my own terms. And if I can help all you guys out…” Your grin is lopsided but genuine. “I can at least do something worthwhile, y’know? And that’s—it’s okay. I’m helping you guys save two worlds at once, _heh_. That sorta stuff only happens in those stories rife with heroes and fantasy. To think I can also be strong enough to help others, to protect their happiness…”

You beam up at Geno. “It makes everything worth it. Trust me.”

The spirit pauses thoughtfully, dissecting your face for lingering doubts beneath your cheery facade. But you’re being honest and he seems to realize this, too.

His mouth twitches before one corner rises in a smirk. Red eyes twinkle in the low light of the room. “...of course. I understand.”

“Good. Now stop using my baggage to distract you from yours.”

Geno winces before glancing away in uncertainty. “...that obvious, huh?”

“Nah,” you admit. “But you and I are a lot alike, and I tended to focus on anything that wasn’t, y’know. Shyster pointed out that that sort of coping isn’t really healthy in the long-run, so I guess I’m gonna be the one to point that out to you. So, to reiterate: don’t ignore your problems or let them fester.”

Your arm moves on its own accord, splaying your palm out for a hand. Geno stares down in mild bemusement before grasping onto your fingers with his own. You guide your clasped hands down and up in a strong, sure shake.

Echoing the Shyster’s words, you state, “We’re all in this together.”

And Geno smiles again. He blinks, glancing away at everyone else before looking back at you. “...right. Of course. Thanks.”

It doesn’t take long for everyone to recharge. It’s still sort of a process to inform them of the necessary “riding the chandelier up to the top and then facing Exor” bit.

But Bowser is quick to snap his...claws, and one of the Shy Guys tied to the chandelier plummets down to the floor. “My liege…! Are you here to finally take back our home?”

“You bet I am, _gwar har har_! Now get the Koopa Troop up there so we can beat the tar outta that sword!”

“‘Koopa Troop’...?” The Shy Guy just stares at all of your rather tattered forms while Bowser proudly motions to your group. “Oh, of course. Well, hop aboard!”

Even if the Shy Guy grumbles a bit in his own tongue - “he’s saying everyone’s heavy,” Shyster translates, much to the embarrassment of the other - he clearly has no problem heaving up the chandelier. But soon enough Shyster is immersed in a quiet conversation only he and the other Shy Guy can understand. Briefly, you can hear Bowser’s name amongst the other watery words. Still leaves you to...enjoy the ride, you guess. The spire _is_ ridiculously tall.

Watching Mallow near the edge to peek down at the floor far below and Toadstool immediately plucking the prince away, you glance at the spirit to your side.

“Hey, Geno?”

The doll turns to you. “What is it?”

You don’t even try to hide the smile. “Got enough magic in you for a Geno Whirl?”

“Yeah. Why…?” He drawls the last part out, like he isn’t sure whether to trust your judgement.

A small laugh tumbles out. “If you’re—I dunno, if you time it right, you can probably take out Exor in one hit.”

Just as Geno’s red eyes grow impossibly large, the Shy Guy tied to the chandelier announces, “We’re almost at the top…! Hold on tight and fasten your seatbelts—wait a sec, there _are_ no seatbelts on this thing!”

Aaand just like in-game, you’re promptly shunted off the chandelier alongside everyone else. You can’t deny the yelp that escapes when the wind rushes past your face, but at least both Mallow and Bowser also made not-so-subtle noises of distress.

Conveniently, the part of the upper spire you crash through is under construction so it’s only a few wooden boards you crash through in order to land on the spire proper. Inconveniently, you don’t stick the landing and end up tripping before face-planting into the cobblestones, butt up in the air. More inconveniently, both Mallow and Shyster land on top of you before rolling off, leaving you gasping for breath and generally hating life. The _coup de grâce_ is how Mario, despite sticking the landing, still manages to trip over your prone form.

“Ugh…”

As Mario busies himself with brushing you off and heaving you back up onto shaky legs, Mallow apologizes. “Sorry ‘bout that, Sharkbait! You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“My _life_ hurts right about now, but it’s cool. No biggie. And, uh, th-thanks for the lift.”

Mario’s grin beneath his bushy mustache is infectious and you struggle to not broadcast your euphoria. Mario is a cool dude, after all. _And_ Mr. Video Game, but that’s besides the point.

“Well, look who decided to crash the party.”

Everyone turns to Exor, whose face is drawn in an otherwise neutral expression save for the scowl.

Eyes narrowed and honed in on your group, the sword continues. “Hmph. You think you have a chance at stopping us from taking over this world? I’d like to see you try.”

Once the last bellowed words leave his fanged maw, Exor immediately casts Dark Star with a sharp gleam to his eyes.

You barely get out of the way by diving and rolling back onto your feet. Readying your Diamond Saws, you yell, “Aim for the eyes first; they’re protecting the real Exor!”

“Whaddya mean the ‘real’ Exor?” Bowser replies, taking a nearby brick and hurling it at the left eye. Considering the sword is pretty far away from the platform, all the melee fighters are at a disadvantage.

“The real Exor’s the face on the hilt,” you reply, hurling your spell at the left eye too. It blinks but that odd glint is still present.

A wellspring of magic wells beneath your feet and you’re forced to endure beams of light that erupt underneath. The light burns, but the scariest part is seeing both Mallow and Mario succumb to sleep. Aurora Flash, then.

With a grunt, Shyster leaps off the edge and slams his mace into the left eye before using the actual blade to leap back to safety. Contrary to their short, squat forms, Shy Guys _are_ pretty agile, what with how they can flip on karts and whatnot.

But what matters is how that hit shattered some unseen barrier in front of the eye. A faint glimmer still persists around the right eye, however.

“Aim for the other eye!” you bellow, already readying another Diamond Saw to do just that. _Looks like you’ve gotta take out both eyes to get rid of Exor’s protection_…!

With Toadstool busy healing both Mario and Mallow, you’re left to assault the sword alongside Shyster, Bowser, and Geno. They all do their parts, and the final boulder Bowser hurls seems to do the trick as that shimmering barrier finally shatters completely, leaving the burning hilt at your mercy.

“Geno…!”

The spirit’s gaze is steadfast as you point at the real Exor. “Now’s your chance!”

With a soundless flutter of his cape, Geno’s signature magic swirls around him and coalesces into a spinning circlet between his hands. The spell buzzes with power, and the orange glow it emanates somehow makes Geno’s vehement glare that much more foreboding. Then again, it certainly helps his eyes are, y’know, red. And as we all know, red eyes are automatically scary.

Makes you glad you patched your relationship with the spirit, ‘cause you really weren’t a fan of being glared at by him early on.

The spell still in his grasp, Geno vaults around the tower’s stadium, deftly dodging the barrage of attacks Exor’s hurling at him. All the boss’s attempts fail to keep the spirit at bay.

With a mighty leap, Geno flies through the air until he’s level with the hilt. He rears back before throwing his arms out in one swift motion, the circlet flung forward until it’s nothing more than a blazing streak against the dark skies. Geno Whirl cuts through the air with the harsh _crack_ of what sounds like lightning magic.

The spell slices through Exor effortlessly.

The pseudo-face loses all emotion as the skull-decorated hilt slides off, only to be swallowed up by the shadows innervating Bowser’s Keep. A few seconds later, a nearly silent crash sounds far, far below, followed by the tiniest tremor.

Rushing over to where Geno landed, you smack his shoulder and holler, “_Whoo_…! Yo, that was _awesome_!”

Geno’s expression goes slack before settling on confusion. “It was you who told me to do that.”

You wave your hand. “_Bah_, details. Still cool.”

The two of you make your way over to everyone else, including both Mario and Mallow who seem fine. With a quick Group Hug, Toadstool heals everyone’s wounds with plenty of magic to spare. Must be getting better at the dodging thing.

“So...what now?” Shyster asks.

You blink and glance at Exor. The face remains void of all feeling. “...uh. Well, it’s supposed to, like, suck us up and then we fall into the factory, but. Um. I dunno; maybe smack it?”

Shyster offers you a deadpan stare, much like everyone else excluding Bowser, who retrieves another wayward brick to hurl at the sword.

Surprisingly enough, you _did_ need to whack Exor in order to get his mouth to open.

“Hey, wouldja look at that; I was right—_aaaAHHH_!”

In a blur, you see everyone else whizz past you as Exor does his thing. Soon enough your feet lose all traction and you go flying off the platform alongside them.

You do manage to see Shyster writhing through the air and reach out. He does the same and the two of you cling to each other as your vision turns dark and your skin prickles at the incoming cold.

Soon enough, the outside world’s view is traded for that of Exor’s interior: the factory.

Still yelling, you fall into the pitch black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! 
> 
> Steadily but surely, the end is in sight. After all, this is end-game stuff, my dudes! (<strike>And Exor's an easy-as-hell boss if you can pull off the automatic 9999 Geno Whirl, lol. If there's two things I excel at in SMRPG, it's Geno Whirl and the Yoshi Race.</strike>)
> 
> Thanks for sticking around; hope I've made the stay worth it!!


	22. Amid the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, being small _does_ have marked disadvantages.

A nicely timed Waterspout halts your freefall. With a bit more control, you will your spell to slowly lower you and Shyster onto the platform beneath you.

It’s only when your feet touch the stony ground and your spell dissipates that you realize your Waterspout grabbed a few of the others. Case and point, Bowser, Mario, and Geno are left floundering through the air before crashing onto the same platform. A few seconds later, Toadstool floats down on her parasol, Mallow pressed against her.

With a few dirty looks thrown your way and a paltry “oops” on your part, everyone gathers their bearings.

“...is this the inside of Exor?” the princess questions, closing her umbrella.

“Sure looks like it,” Bowser huffs. He crosses his arms as he surveys the swirling void of navy blue and black before shivering minutely; it _is_ pretty chilly. “This place doesn’t seem so bad.”

Geno exchanges a quick glance with Mario before stating, “Well, we haven’t actually gone into the factory yet. Or at least it seems like it, because this—” he gestures with both arms, “—doesn’t appear to be a smithing facility.”

Red eyes meet yours, and sure enough everyone else is casting their questioning gazes at you. Before you can answer, Shyster squirms a bit and—

“You can put me down now,” he quips. With a roll of your eyes you do so.

“Anyways, Geno’s right; this isn’t Smithy’s factory,” you say with a shrug. You eye the lone gate made of partially melted metal and all the crude metallic lumps bordering the edges like demented guardrails. “This is just the inside of Exor, but Exor serves as a portal to get to Smithy’s factory.”

“A dimensional rift,” Geno surmises with a nod. “And the only way to get to Smithy is to get through…_this_.” He jabs a thumb back the nearby floating platforms which extend into the shadows, disappearing from view.

“Yeah.”

“Welp, looks like that’s gonna be a hassle and a half for you punks,” Bowser quips. Sniffing, he goes on to say, “My job here is done; I’ve reclaimed my keep so I’ll be heading back—”

“Oh yeah? And how are you going to do that?” The Koopa purses his lips at the princess’s retort, curling in on himself when she continues to remark, “Last I checked, we _can’t_ because we just fell at least a hundred feet, and it’s not like Mario can jump _that_ high!”

“Could be more than a hundred feet,” Mallow supplies besides her. He glances up with the observation, “And it looks like we can’t go back even if we wanted to. I don’t see the opening anymore.”

Everyone glances up and true to the prince’s words, there’s nothing indicating an opening to the outside world.

“Looks like we’re stuck here, then,” Shyster summarizes. “Well, unless we presumably finish what we started.”

With a nod, you explain, “Smithy has the last Star Piece. We get that, and…”

“My job here will be finished.” Geno briefly glances down at his worn brown boots, an odd look crossing his features. Shaking his head, he looks back up, red eyes meeting red eyes. “Still, even if you wanted to return, it’s not like your keep would actually remain yours, Bowser.”

The king of Koopas grimaces. “Oh yeah? And how does that work out, dollface? Who knows, maybe gettin’ out will be like with that Culex guy—”

Geno shakes his head. With a wry smirk, he explains, “Do you really think that Smithy will let you have your castle back if he’s still well and alive to take it back again? Do you believe your troops are prepared for another onslaught of Smithy’s forces?”

Bowser huffs, smokes billowing from his nostrils. “That shouldn’t matter if the likes of you guys are goin’ to take care of that guy. I go back to reclaim my fortress, and you get to work on taking out Smithy—”

“Dude, c’mon.” Bowser glances your way with a raised brow; you return the expression. Shrugging, you quip, “Don’t you, I dunno, wanna get back at Smithy for putting you in this position? I mean, we’re going to go rough the guy up - or worse, more likely… - but! Doesn’t giving the guy a run for his money sound perfect?”

“You’re a terrible influence,” Shyster snarks below you, but you watch Bowser’s red eyes begin twinkling in interest.

“Besides,” you drawl lazily, “aren’t we the Koopa Troop? Where would we be without our leader, eh? Eh?”

Behind Bowser, both Mario and Geno slap their hands over their mouths, but tiny snorts still manage to escape. Even Mallow is grinning in excitement as Toadstool playfully rolls her eyes, but her glossed smile attests to her real feelings.

Quickly, Bowser turns away from everyone and shudders a bit. You may hear a small sniff, but you just grim more when the king of Koops turns back around, looking so sure of himself.

With a single nod, he grumbles, “Y-yeah, well—Sharkbait’s right! You chumps wouldn’t know what to do without me.” He pounds his fists together before growling, “Let’s go kick Smithy’s ass, _gwar har har_…!”

You watch in detached bemusement as Mario shoots a glare at Bowser whilst covering...where Mallow’s ears _presumably_ are, but, y’know. Geno looks like he wants to pinch the bridge of his nose but settles for tapping his foot with a raised brow.

“...ha, oops.” Bowser taps his claws together awkwardly. “‘S not _that_ bad of a word, honestly.”

Okay, the resultant expressions of pure venom on both Mario and Geno’s faces are enough to cause a fit of laughter to erupt from your gut. Bowser soon joins in, even grabbing his belly. ‘Course, Toadstool whacks Bowser over the head with her parasol and Shyster nearly kicks your shin in, but it’s all in good fun.

“Anyways, I’d sure like to go give Smithy a good what-for,” you say, clenching a fist. “I mean, he kinda stabbed me. Indirectly, but it still counts!”

“Oi.” You glance down at Shyster who nods over at the gate. “Didn’t you mention we’d be facing copies of all the generals: y’know, Mack, Bowyer, Yaridovich?”

“Also the Axem Rangers, but yeah. They’re not the real things—just some enemies called Machine Mades who mimic the originals, but they’re…at least they shouldn’t be as tough, but we’ll see, I guess,” you shrug. “I mean, those things won’t be the toughest guys we’ll face in here; there’s a _lot_ of fighting ahead.”

Contrary to how Bowser and Mario eye each other competitively, Geno sighs. “So getting to Smithy’s factory sounds like it’ll be the hard part.”

“Pretty much, yeah. But we’ll also be fighting in the factory too…”

Geno sighs again, this time low and long. “Okay then. We should probably head out, then. Is everyone ready?”

Everyone checks their personal belongings, and after Toadstool chugs a Maple Syrup, the seven of you share resolute nods. Despite the general oppressive atmosphere of Exor’s interior dimension, the shadows can’t seem to put a damper on your moods. Because—

You glance down at Shyster, who returns your steady gaze with his own. “Let’s go,” he states, making his way over to the threshold alongside the others.

You grin and follow after him.

—because you’re all in this together.

*** * * * * * ***

“Oh shi—watch out!”

Before the Dark Star can smash Geno into splinters, a semi-strong Water Blast on your part sends the spirit flying out of the way. The apparition booms down onto empty concrete, sending shattered fragments around, but thankfully it misses its mark.

Mallow retaliates with his own version of the spell, and with a flourish casts Star Rain. As the new, decidedly happier looking star bounces on top of the alarm clock boss - Ring-a-ling? Maybe Count Down? - you rush over to Geno and offer him a hand.

“Sorry about that,” you apologize. “Figured it’d be better than getting hit with that; I can personally attest it sucks.”

Geno just brushes off his cape. “At least you didn’t blow me over the edge. And I _do_ resist your spells since we’re both channels for the first magic. Regardless, thanks for the save. Now—”

An unseen wind gathers around him as his arms shift back to normal. He clasps his hands like he’s praying before releasing them at the same moment a beam of light erupts from them. He then proceeds to throw out his arms, resulting in an array of brilliant, multicolored beams to rain down onto the boss. Even as far as you are, the residual heat of Geno Blast brushes over you.

“Woah…” you breathe.

Fingers snap in front of you. Geno appears unfazed by your wonder, instead chastising, “Focus; we’re not done yet.”

“Okay, okay,” you gripe, readying another, stronger Water Blast.

As Geno goes back to shooting his star guns at the stationary alarm clock, you wait until all the melee fighters clear the area before releasing the hold on your spell. As the steam envelopes the arena, you decide to dispel it with a Waterspout.

_Clang_!

You watch as one of the yellow bells atop the clock is torn from its stalk, flying through the air alongside the dwindling winds of your magic. It rings sporadically as if angry before it’s flung off into the endless abyss, obnoxious ringing vanishing alongside it.

Unfortunately, still cooling down after all the casting, you fail to dodge the attack from the bell’s twin. The white star emblem carved into the bell abruptly lashes out in a single, long line like a chain. They whip through the air and through your arms, though you luckily stumble to the side to avoid completely losing said appendages. Still, the slices are deep and you rightfully hiss in pain.

Toadstool immediately crowds you, warm magic surging through your flesh and mending it back together. It only takes a few seconds but the leftover wound is a mere fraction of what it was.

You shoot a wonky smile up at the princess and thank her. She smiles sweetly in return, and after a quick “be careful,” she skirts off to tend to Bowser, who just got the same treatment you did.

Staying further back alongside Mallow, you keep casting Diamond Saws since both Mario and Shyster are reaming into the clock while up close and personal. A particularly hard smack with the latter’s mace breaks the hourglass making up the boss’s stand, causing the entire clock to shift down.

Despite the boss’s best efforts, one last swing from Mario’s hammer is enough to completely shatter the face of the main body, rendering it useless. With an assist from Bowser who hurls him through the air, Shyster manages to get the last hit on the only remaining bell, knocking it off into the abyss below.

As everyone catches their breath and rejuvenates their FP if they’re a mage, Shyster quips, “At least that thing just sat there. I’d take a stationary target over flying ones any day.”

“Y’mean all those ghosts?” Mallow questions. Thumbing his chin, he admits, “I guess I’d never have a problem with flying monsters ‘cause my magic can hit them on land and in the air.”

You nudge Shyster playfully. “Aw, _pssh_. Shyster here doesn’t like the ghosts ‘cause they look like Shy Guys. Same thing happened with the Greapers back on the Sunken Ship.”

Shyster’s mask colors slightly. “...those things give me the creeps, and rightfully so might I add. Least those ones didn’t have an attack that immediately knocks you out. You’d think the local seer would’ve known.”

You wince at his pointed look; poor guy had to use a Pick-me-up on you. “Well, it was either me or you, and since you had your back turned—”

“There you go, playing meat-shield again! You think I haven’t noticed how those dumb ghosts avoid hitting you? Use it to you advantage next time—”

“What’s done is done,” Geno interrupts whilst fiddling with his arm cannons. He takes a quick peek around the broken body of the alarm clock and the hourglass it used as a body, likewise shattered. “...where are we supposed to go now?”

Careful of the broken glass scattered about, you point to a small tile-like opening in the platform. “Pretty sure we need to jump down there. I don’t see any neighboring platforms or those nuts and bolts connecting them.”

Bowser stomps over to the opening. “Good riddance; those things were about as unsafe as they come. Least I have bridges back in my keep.”

Neither Mario or Toadstool seem impressed with the Koopa's comments on the local architecture. Honestly, you agree with Bowser; those things were a pain and a half to get across, and coupled with your bum knee, you opted to just...take massive leaps of faith using Storm than balance on some piddly screw over an endless abyss. Then again, all the stinkin’ lava pits were also something you had to Storm over because you can’t trust your own two feet...Maybe Mario and the princess have a point...

Bowser waves you over. “Hey Sharkbait, come here will ya?”

A bit confused, you oblige.

The king of Koopas immediately scoops you up and hoists you over a shoulder. Before you can make another squeak of surprise, he rapidly explains, “I’m not gonna get grabbed by your hurricane spell again, so buckle up! We’re moving on!” And he promptly leaps down the hole.

Your shrill screech is abruptly halted when inertia slams you into the Koopa’s hard shoulder pad. Cursing under your breath and rubbing your achy rib, you roll off Bowser and onto the ground. You remain there even when the feet of everyone else enters your vision.

Small, pudgy arms help you up and you thank Shyster.

He just pats your shaky knee gently. “The big guy’s just looking out for you, that’s all.”

Your lips waver. “...I know. It’s kinda sweet, actually.”

Shyster snorts under his breath. “Just don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Yeah. Like I’m gonna veto the chance to be taller, even if it lasts for a second.” Almost like an afterthought, you add, “I betcha a lot of things would be easier if you’re tall.”

“I’m the wrong person to talk about this with,” Shyster states very matter-of-factly. Must be a sore spot for the lil’ guy, _ha_.

But both of you notice Mario glance over at you guys. You shoot him a smile. “_Aha_, but, the shorter you are, you’re less of a target! Right?”

Mario actually tips his head back and plants a gloved finger under his chin. Once he’s done pondering, he opts for a soundless shrug, but as soon as he turns around you watch him itch the side of his head like he’s still thinking about it. Then again, he’s not too much shorter than you, but he doesn’t get hit that often as opposed to either Bowser or Geno, who are markedly taller. And Toadstool’s hardly in the thick of things like you mages…

“...then there’s also the possibility that being small means potential adversaries will underestimate you.”

Despite moving on and jumping from one platform to the next, Mario replies by rapidly nodding his head. He jabs a thumb over at where Bowser is struggling to jump over a conveyor belt before making a ‘watch this’ motion. And you do: the portly plumber barely squats before leaping in front of the Koopa. His bushy mustache can’t hide the snide grin as he watches Bowser slide further down the belt, having tipped over onto his back in surprise. Ah yes, the weakness of all turtles: flipping.

You snort as does Toadstool, who’s also conversing alongside you. She perks up a bit when the plumber rubs his platforming prowess with a snide jig in front of Bowser, who manages to get back up and swipe at him in retaliation.

As Geno and Mallow go to meditate, the princess adds, “And if you’re small _and_ cute, you’ll always be able to get a good hit in! You just have to woo your enemy and then—_wham_! Hopefully Bowser can get it through his thick skull that I don’t _need_ Mario to rescue me all the time; I’m perfectly capable of giving him the royal treatment...!”

She accentuates her words by swinging her parasol. You grin easily, unable to stop yourself from saying, “Yup! I learned the hard way you pack a mean punch, princess.”

“Oh, right...I’m sorry about that Gecko.”

“It’s totally okay,” you reply, still grinning. “Small and cute things are easy to underestimate, after all. I mean, you’d think I’d learn after hanging around _this_ thug for so long.”

Even if he slaps your nudging foot away, Shyster’s mask immediately breaks out into vivid red. Garbled, watery words escape his mask in a jumble before he squeaks, “_I-I’m not cute, damnit_!”

Your response is an airy shrug and a somewhat lax, “Suuure. Keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

While Shyster continues to fumble over himself in the defense that he’s _not_ cute, you and Toadstool share a quick look. Her glossy lips pull up in a large smile before she covers her mouth; prim and proper compared to your resultant guffaws.

The oppressive atmosphere off all the isolated platforms hanging over an endless abyss seems lost to your group. Even as you carve your way through troves of metallic enemies made to mimic the Axem Rangers or machinery parts like Drill Bits, you don’t hesitate to say what’s on your mind.

Maybe it’s the fear causing you to babble somewhat nonsensically, but the others reply with just as much vigor between the fights. Either way, it’s a massive relief you don’t have to be alone with your thoughts as opposed to just...sharing them and hoping the others will chase away and lingering doubts. Because, at the end of the day, you don’t want to let the fear inside drown you in these last, precious moments.

The worn yellow of your canvas bag reminds you of Mr. Shroomby, the one who endorsed your adventure in the first place. And while you didn’t know him nearly as well, you’ll also miss Mr. Mycil for introducing you to this world with his errands. Although it will hurt leaving them behind without telling him, you’ve made peace with that. They have their lives and they shouldn’t spend it worrying over you.

The faded red bandana curled around your neck remains Johnny’s goodbye and, while not associated with them, it also serves to remind you of the times spent algonside Stitches and Stripes. Sure, you didn’t spend much time aboard the Sunken Ship, but it feels like a lifetime ago—a lifetime you don’t regret, either. But that doesn’t mean you’ll miss that craggy cove, whose similarity to the steep cliffs back home is nearly painful. The hurt is still somewhat raw, but you’ve accepted it nonetheless.

There are others, of course—so many others to account for. But you don’t stay under the sea of sentimentality for long, afraid you’ll never leave it. Memories are important, but it’s more important to _make_ more memories.

Johnny said _don’t dwell. Move on_.

Because otherwise, you won’t have much time left to _live_.

And as you stand beside Mallow and Shyster, laughing at Bowser and Mario swing a couple of Drill Bits as makeshift bats against many more Machine Mades slinking across the conveyor belts, you feel light. Lighter than you were when you were trapped beneath the waters, struggling against the weightlessness.

Over the rambunctiousness of the plumber and Koopa, red eyes meet your own. You return Geno’s bemused smile with a wide one of your own. He closes his eyes briefly, expression soft when they reopen.

You’re not dwelling.

You’re living.

*** * * * * * ***

“...that was easier than expected,” Geno quips dryly, arms shifting back.

“Honestly, I was wondering how his whole...schtick worked,” you comment, rubbing your chin. “Y’know, how he can prevent all magic despite not using a muting spell. Which, by the way, doesn’t make sense.”

Mallow shrugs. “At least we’re a lot stronger than we were back in the Forest Maze, right Mario?”

The plumber simply nods with a quick thumbs-up.

As your group continues traversing over ominous floating platforms and a variety of conveyor belts that have no business being where they are, you fall into line with Geno and Shyster. “If there’s one thing I kinda wish I could’ve seen, it’s how you guys defeated Bowyer—the real Bowyer, I guess,” you admit, eyeing Mallow and Mario who walk ahead.

Shyster lets out a small scoff. “I’m kinda curious myself. All I knew at the time was what they divulged—”

“He slapped me awake just so I could confirm your arrival.”

“—which boiled down to you possessing a doll to go beat the Smithy Gang into submission,” Shyster finishes. He does throw you a bone, however. “As for slapping you: I was still under the impression you were a fraud so I had to know if _you_ knew about…” He gestures to Geno soundlessly.

You snort. Answering Geno’s questioning gaze, you quickly explain how his mere existence isn’t something one can conventionally come up with. “Still had no idea seers were common,” you shrug. “Made my life easier and harder, since it turned out I had _some_ merit.”

Geno can’t really hide his curiosity but you have faith he won’t ask about your foreknowledge until...well. Even so, he shakes his head and says, “It is true we star spirits don’t really come down to the surface, much less to borrow a body.” He laughs quietly before adding, “If anything, it took a bit to get used to walking, much less using all these weapons.”

“I would’ve paid to see you eat dirt,” Shyster quips and you let loose an unattractive snort-cough.

Geno crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. Still, you add, “Oh man, did you actually punch Bowyer in the middle of his monologue? Did Mario save you from an arrow? We pretty much only saw Mallow biff it before backtracking…”

Bashfully, Geno does admit that he might’ve underestimated Smithy’s generals and that yes, Mario _did_ literally leap to his defense. “Good thing too; being shot isn’t a pleasant feeling, paralysis even less so,” he says.

You start laughing before realizing what he said. “Wh—wait a sec; hold on. What do you _mean_ being shot isn’t a ‘pleasant feeling’? You can _feel_?”

Geno balks a bit. “Uh...well, truthfully I can, but I sincerely doubt the sensations are exactly like...everyone else’s. If anything, they’re muted. The pain, that is; still irritating enough to influence my actions during a fight. The only thing I really _can’t_ do is eat…” Thumbing his chin, he admits, “Though I have to say, sleeping is something I enjoy despite thinking it was a big waste of time before I _could_ sleep.”

The words bounce around inside your skull for a bit, processing. Then you immediately slap Geno’s shoulder.

The startled look in Geno’s red eyes alongside the abrupt wince further proves it. “Wh—what—”

You jab a finger in his face. “You _jerk_! You told me you couldn’t feel pain when we—what about when Dodo straight up ripped your arm off, huh? No wonder you sounded so bad! _Jeez_, I can’t believe I never realized…!”

“Y’know,” Shyster begins, “it’s pretty obvious dollface here can feel. Everytime he gets hit, he winces; everytime he gets a status condition, he shows it; the most glaring offender was when Bowser busted into Booster Tower. Remember he was trapped under the guy and was audibly groaning? Pain’s pretty obvious when you know what you’re looking for.”

You squint down at Shyster. “...ignoring that last comment because _wow_, I never really paid much attention to Geno—”

Both Shyster and Geno cast disbelieving looks at you; Geno does, but you know Shyster well enough to read it in his composure.

“In my defense—”

“You have none,” Shyster quips. “Unless it’s specifically ‘I’m unobservant as all hell.’”

You click your tongue. “Rude.” Two pairs of eyes stare into your soul and strip you bare. You shudder. Throwing you hands up in mock defeat, you admit, “Okay! Okay, so _maybe_ you’re right. But we’ve already established I don’t pay attention unless I’m, like, being immediately threatened. Like when Geno kept bullying me in the beginning—”

Said spirit huffs. “I admit my intentions weren’t in the best place at the time, but—”

“No, they’re right,” Shyster interrupts. “You _were_ pretty pushy, Mr. Spirit. Obstinate to the point of contention, really. In other words: a bully.”

You snicker whilst Geno aims his displeased grimace at the Shy Guy. At least there’s no shame present in his expression. Your conversation stalls a bit when a slew of those walking mallets drop off a nearby conveyor belt. Like old times, Mario and Bowser do most of the heavy lifting, but one Thunderbolt from Mallow finishes the job.

You cast a quick Storm under a Machine Made - Axem Black, smug asshole - and watch with disinterest as it flies off the edge. You smack your hands together. “_Anyways_, all that’s behind us, right? You’ve learned to live a little, Shyster here’s stopped calling me out on my BS, and I can explode things with magic. Dude. It’s all good.”

Geno appears a bit uncertain, but a quick smack against his leg alerts him to Shyster.

Shyster nods. “What they said. Besides, can’t have a little adventure without doing a bit of self-reflection.”

Geno looks between you guys before shaking his head ruefully. “You two...why should I expect anything else? You’ve been through a lot, even before traveling alongside Mario and us. Added insight is appreciated, really.”

You pat the doll’s wooden shoulder. “Shyster’s right; then again, when is he not? Point is, we’re all in this together. Doesn’t hurt that we’re a team of seven.”

Geno eyes your smile. “You seem remarkably calm for walking toward the final confrontation.”

You laugh; it’s a bit shaky. “I’m pretty sure it’s all the adrenaline. But otherwise you’re right; I’m not really that worried about whether we’ll succeed or not. After all, we’re the good guys, and the good guys always win!”

Even as Shyster bursts into incredulous snorts, Geno’s smile doesn’t taper off. “...how oddly optimistic of you. But I think I can follow. Being around everyone else...all the help they’ve provided, including you...it makes it seem like we can accomplish anything.”

Cue more snorts from Shyster. “Wow, that’s about as cheesy as it gets.”

“Oh yeah?” Geno challenges. “How else would you describe our general attitude otherwise?”

There’s most definitely a smirk in his voice when Shyster easily replies, “It’s called _hope_, dollface.”

Geno actually stumbles over his own feet for a few seconds. Over your stunted chuckles and Shyster’s “dang, almost,” the spirit’s wide eyes find yours. You return his surprise with a slick grin.

‘_Perceptive_,’ you mouth, knowing Shyster is too short to see the exchange.

Geno remembers himself. “Right. Of course.” He shakes his head. “How right you are.” And then he laughs weakly.

You just shoot Shyster and thumbs-up. The three of you continue to converse amongst yourselves, mostly you blabbering about one thing or another that’s happened on your journey. Eventually you get the others to join in - save for Mario, who is steadfast in remaining mostly mute - and share their own experiences.

“Ooh, ooh! What about what happened during Marrymore? Did you guys actually fight a sentient wedding cake?”

Mallow smiles in sharp contrast to Mario, Bowser, and Toadstool’s grimaces. “Oh yeah! You should’ve seen the mess we made outta the wedding hall, _ha ha_! ‘Course I’m not sure if it was our spells or the cake’s that caused so much damage, but it was a tough fight for sure!”

“And after all that hard work, not even a nibble…” Bowser gripes.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could stomach eating something...alive,” the princess says, shivering at the thought. “Cakes have no business moving like that, _ick_.”

Even though he played as much as part as the other four, Geno’s just as happy as you are to sit back and listen as you delve further and further into the factory.

*** * * * * * ***

You stumble over what feels like dozens of tiny pathways and rigs of conveyor belts dappled here and there. Since there’s no sky, you have no idea exactly how much time has passed, but you certainly feel drained. Maybe running your mouth to fill the otherwise oppressive atmosphere is catching up with your diminished stamina. You don’t regret it, though; gotta live it up while you can, after all.

It’s when you finally arrive in a very familiar room that your instincts flare for some reason. It’s just another standard square platform rimmed with misshapen metallic molds, but there’s a tile missing from the center. Or it would be had it not been for the conspicuous brick mostly filling it.

“Hold up,” Shyster announces, halting his steps. “What’s wrong?”

You fumble a bit, squint up at the darkness overhead. “Uh...I think we need to get down. There should be another platform beneath this one. I...if I’m remembering correctly, that’s the only way to get to the actual factory.”

Mario nods before straightening his cap and stalking forward. Mallet in hand, he preps to swing down onto the block before a whistling noise sounds.

Geno, looking up as you are, immediately steps forward and harshly pulls Mario back. “Watch out—”

You barely glance at the surprise on both their faces when a Machine Made drops onto the block. Heart rate rapid, you hate how you freeze up when the Yaridovich copy rears back, spear in hand, empty gaze on your group.

There’s hardly any warning when it immediately swipes, knocking both Mario and Geno back.

The resulting fight _sucks_.

Despite how you know this Machine Made isn’t nearly as powerful as the original, phantom pains lance up the side you were stabbed. You hiss at your own weakness when your knee, sore and swollen from all the jumping and walking, buckles. You pay for the motion by being sent flying by a club-like swing of the spear’s stalk.

Winded, small hands immediately hoist you up. “C’mon,” Shyster’s tone is tight, “let’s get you further back so you can blow this guy to smithereens. Everyone else will cover you.”

You nod soundlessly, feverishly glancing back because you don’t want to be caught unawares again. With Shyster supporting your knee, you gain enough distance to put alongside Mallow, who’s been flinging his lightning magic around because apparently Yaridovich is weak to the element.

As soon as he’s sure you’re safe, Shyster turns around and jumps into action. One swing of his mace later, Yaridovich is pushed away even further.

True to form, the Machine Made clone is far, far weaker than the original...but you are most definitely not expecting another Yaridovich copy to drop down as soon as the first is rendered into dust. It lands on that block, and you notice—

“—their landings are breaking the exit,” Shyster observes.

Bowser punches his fists together. “Bring ‘em on! I’m just getting started…!”

You fling a few Diamond Saws and cast a few Storms, but you shy away from using your more FP-heavy spells because there’s still so much more to do. Fear still clogs your mind to the point your dodges are shaky at best, but the worst offender is when the third Yaridovich turns out to be more mobile than the previous two.

With a mighty swing, it knocks Bowser away into Mario and Geno, bowling pin style. Mallow retaliates with a thunderbolt that hits, but Yaridovich shakes the spell off to cast its own: Meteor Blast.

Tiny, shimmering stars fill your vision before you’re hurled back with the force of an explosion. Luckily, it’s a watered-down version of Water Blast - no boiling heat or lingering steam - but it still stings. A quick look shows you skinned your elbows on impact.

Still recovering, you’re wholly unprepared for the Flame Stone that crashes down on your prone form. Welp, there’s the searing heat you were just thinking about.

A groan pushes past your clenched teeth. Hoisting yourself up on shaky arms, you look up and see everyone—everyone except the Machine Made.

A shadow falls over you.

That fear morphs into icy dread and seems to freeze you to the spot. Your tongue refuses to cooperate, which you’re thankful for; that scream caught in your throat comes out as a tiny, choked noise.

You barely find enough strength to turn around only to see your worst fear realized: Yaridovich’s speartip, pointed to impale you.

A spiked mace abruptly slams into the Machine Made, shattering the spear and knocking its head clean off. The weapon falls to the ground as does Yaridovich’s remains.

You tremble, even as tiny footfalls run to your side.

“Are you okay?” Shyster sounds strangely urgent. You nod dumbly. “Okay. Good. Just...Can you get up?”

You regulate your breathing through your nose, even when a fourth Yaridovich lands onto the block, cracking it so badly you’re sure the next one will be the last.

The cycle repeats with Mario, Bowser, Geno, and Mallow reaming on the mock boss. But you won’t deny it’s a pleasant surprise to find Toadstool kneeling down by you alongside Shyster. The princess’s warm magic thrums through you gently, stitching your wounds up until their pain is nothing more than a lingering sensation.

“There! Even if I can’t heal your knee, I hope it’s enough for now,” Toadstool says, sad smile in place.

You blink and shake your head. “N-no. Thank _you_. I-I shouldn’t have, have frozen like that…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Shyster retorts, tone non-aggressive. “And don’t push yourself. We’re all in this together, all right? See; look for yourself.”

You do just in time to watch the others take down the Machine Made. While you feel absolutely awful, both physically and mentally, relief settles onto you and soothes your self-esteem. You want to let your magic run rampant to make up for...for being a handicap, but you _don’t_ want to disappoint Shyster _more_.

With both Shyster and Toadstool’s help, you get back onto your feet and make your way toward the others. As you limp, the final Machine Made drops and as expected, it crashes through the sealed exit with a resounding _bang_!

Everyone settles down, under the correct impression no more Machine Mades will incite more fights. Soon enough, they glance down the opening to confirm that yes, another platform rests underneath.

Geno turns at your approach, opens his mouth after taking in how utterly worn down you likely look, but soon shuts it. Concern flickers in his eyes but seeing Shyster still supporting you eases it. “...can you tell us what to expect?”

You search your memory banks and the image of a long, seemingly endless cobra monster comes to mind. “...I...I’m pretty sure there’s another tough fight. Something...about a snake, I think...or maybe that’s later, um…”

“It’s alright,” Geno supplies easily. “We just need to prepare for another battle in the meantime.”

And you do. Maple Syrups are sipped and green mushrooms are eaten. You’re glad Toadstool opts to heal your injuries because mushrooms are nasty, so you just sit back and press most of your weight onto your good leg.

It doesn’t take long for familiar claws to lift you onto a spiky shoulder. “Alrighty,” Bowser grouses, “let’s get going already. The sooner we beat the tar outta Smithy the sooner I can get to repairing my keep.”

Another precarious freefall later and your group is faced with not a snake, but two...clown-like bosses. The one with a pretty gnarly mustache is holding a scimitar and shield, and the other looks like a striped beach ball with arms and a cloak. Obviously the duality of physical and magic made into a pair of bosses.

“Ohhh yeah.” You rub your knee. “Forgot about these guys. They’re, um—well, one of them’s called Domino, I remember that much.”

The jester-looking one snorts balefully. “Seems the seer isn’t all that useful after all, Cloaker!”

Cloaker, presumably the sword-toting guy, returns with a _hmph_. “Makes our job easier.”

Domino’s claws wriggle, lightning magic dancing across the digits. Cloaker readies his sword and hoists his shield up. Your group readies their weapons in tandem.

The resulting fight isn’t too bad, all things considered. Aside from the fact you have to tell the others that the physically-inclined Cloaker is weak to magic and the magically-inclined Domino is weak to physical attacks, the fact it’s seven against two more than makes up for the bosses’ bulk.

The only other adversary you have to worry about is how stinkin’ slim the platform is. Surely it wasn’t _this_ bad in-game, right? There’s barely enough width to fit five of you across it, much less all seven!

Careful to not overlap your fights, you all separate based on your strengths and the bosses’ weaknesses.

With Geno, Mario, and Bowser reaming on Domino, you’re left alongside Mallow and Shyster to take care of Cloaker.

“_Ugh_—!” You limp away just as a mace slams into Cloaker’s shield, sending the boss careening to the side with minimal harm done. Still, you apply pressure against the slice in your forearm, having failed to dodge the swing of his sword.

Hissing, you cast a Water Blast and rejoice in the pained grunts echoing from within the cloud of steam. Shortly following your spell is a massive Shocker, which alights the dim atmosphere to almost blinding proportions. A more pained sound escapes Cloaker, and you follow up Mallow with a Storm.

You return Mallow’s grin, further beaming when Toadstool scurries over to you. With a gentle touch, her warm magic leaves nothing but the faintest smudges of blood on your arm. A quick thanks later and she smiles back before leaving to tend to Mario, who just got hit with a Lightning Orb.

Once the steam settles, Cloaker is still standing...well, given the guy doesn’t have any legs, but that’s besides the point. The point being—

“_Yaargh_…!”

Everyone glances over just in time to catch Domino go down, releasing a stream of gurgled cries before outright exploding. Thankfully, the explosion doesn’t seem to faze either Bowser or Geno, who seemed aware of the danger. Still, the latter is definitely closer to the edge than what’s comfortable. Mario, being Mario, tips his hat and allows his cool gaze to wander, narrowing upon seeing Cloaker.

The remaining boss just releases a gruff sound. “Of course the weak mage went down first. So be it…!”

Cloaker abruptly bounces back into where the platform extends into the darkness. It’s only when a series of suspended lights hanging off of iron bars turn on that you can see what you’re now up against.

“I’m assuming that’s the snake you were talking about,” Shyster says, pointing toward a massive cobra-like behemoth rests.

With another leap, Cloaker inserts himself into what looks like a control deck for the apparatus. A single _click_ sounds out, followed by tiny tendrils of electricity which attack the boss to the snake’s head.

The...isn’t it called Earth Link? Whatever; the Earth Link’s eyes roll in their sockets before the cobra lifts its massive head. The red irises still before honing in on your group. While it looks a bit doofy, it certainly loses that silliness when you see the massive fangs hanging out of its mouth. Coupled with the fact it’s almost nearly as thick as the admittedly narrow platform...it doesn’t look goofy anymore.

You shudder a bit; you already got bit by Megasmilax _and_ a Bahamutt, and you’d rather not repeat the experience.

Summoning a pair of Diamond Saws, you quickly announce, “Aim for the snake; it’s weak to magic!”

Chaos engulfs the platform shortly after your announcement. Because you’re almost positive Cloaker and Earth Link don’t have any spells at their disposal, you are wholly unprepared when the platforms begins quaking uncontrollably.

The struggle to maintain your foot is lost, and you fall onto your butt. Even if your vision is all messed up from the shaking, your heart spikes when you notice the boulders, seemingly conjured from thin air, begin to fall. _Did he just cast Boulder_…?

You yelp, rolling out of the way before one can smoosh you into smithereens. A couple of shrill cries ring out, and you hope none of the others were buried before you’re forced to focus solely on yourself.

Though the spell lasts only a dozen or so seconds, you’re unlucky enough to get hit by one of the smaller boulders. It crashes into your back and knocks the air out of your lungs. Wheezing, you’re left on the floor in a bit of a daze, trying to regulate your breathing through the fiery pain in your dumb rib.

Before you have the chance to get up and do something, your peripheral manages to catch Cloaker and Earth Link’s next move. You barely have the energy to muster an “Oh no” before the cobra’s head slams into the ground in front of you, sending you flying backwards.

You’re again left wheezing on the ground, struggling to get up. A tender spot at the back of your head attests that you must’ve hit it during your fall. Idly wondering if you’re concussed, your worries are proven when a keen sense of vertigo prevents you from getting up. At least you’re not upchucking, so there’s that.

Hands wrap themselves around your center, prying you back up. Your knee is quivering so badly you’re afraid you’ll lose balance and fall down again, but the hands holding you close thankfully prevent that.

Once your vision stops spinning enough to see your aide, you slur, “Thu-thanks, Geno.”

Despite you butchering his name as “Jean-yo,” he remains unfazed. Still supporting you against him, he’s quick to ask, “Do you have any healing items in your bag?” When you shake your head, he says nothing but continues surveying the battlefield, where the others are clearly still fighting. “What about your magic stores? How are they holding up?”

“Got enough for a couple more spells, at least…”

You look up and watch as the others take up your admittedly shallow mantle. Shyster is trying his hardest to apparently smash the fangs from Earth Link’s mouth, Mallow is casting elemental spells left and right, Bowser is breathing fire, and Mario is using his fire magic to light all of Toadstool’s bombs for her Psyche Bomb, no doubt.

It only halts a bit when Shyster, for all his agility, gets a bit too close to Cloaker.

The boss immediately uses the opportunity to swipe at the Shy Guy with his sword, clearly cutting into Shyster judging by the scraps of his red robe floating through the air. Although you’re glad you don’t see any abrupt spurts of blood hinting at a deep injury, you can’t help but realize that Shyster’s still at his mercy in the air.

Almost as if directly answering your fears, Cloaker bashes Shyster away with his shield. A minor _twang_ rings out, but what really stutters your heart is watching your friend being catapulted over the edge of the platform—

“Hey, wait—!”

You ignore Geno and shove yourself away, limp-stumbling your way over to the edge where Shyster went over. You don’t hesitate to leap yourself, eyes thankfully honing in on the small red blip further down. Like a beacon in the darkness, your magic flares to life and you huddle in on yourself, accelerating until you’re close enough to hear Shyster’s incredulous, “What are you—?”

You promptly slam into the Shy Guy, fingers probably digging into his robe harsher than necessary. But he doesn’t complain so you press him against you tighter, the freefall’s momentum enough to rip him away if you’re not careful.

With the last of your magic, you cast Waterspout.

Immediately, your descent slows before halting altogether, turbulent winds keeping you caged in the eye of the storm. Hating how little magic you have left, you put as much _oomph_ into your spell as you can, willing it to lift you and Shyster. The strain the action puts on you is immense, resulting in you nearly dropping Shyster with the abrupt fatigue that takes over your limbs. But the weight you’re holding reminds you that you _have_ to push through the magic exhaustion, else you both fall to your probable demise.

Gritting your teeth, cold sweat begins to prick your forehead as your spell takes its toll. Yet, slowly but surely, Waterspout lifts the two of you up, up, up.

Through the winds whipping around you, you crawl up through the air column until the endless shadows fade away into something more recognizable. Massive concrete pillars come into view, the latent body of Earth Link winding around them like a world snake. You’re close.

Despite how numb yet heavy your limbs feel, you maintain your spell until the platform comes into view.

Just a...little...bit…_more_…!

As soon as you breach the edge of the platform, your magic abruptly gives out. Before you can tip back and fall into the abyss once more, arms lash out to firmly grasp onto your shoulders. A quick, rough tug later, you find yourself pressed against Geno’s wooden frame.

“_Stars_,” he breathes, “what were you _thinking_?! If you didn’t have enough magic—”

Shyster wiggles a bit, probably uncomfortable being pressed between you and Geno. His pained voice interrupts the spirit, “Look, what’s done is done. Just...lemme down.”

Geno’s scarlet eyes glint in the darkness but he relents, stepping away just enough for you to nearly collapse in an effort to lean down and release the Shy Guy. Thankfully, Shyster’s injuries don’t seem too bad since he readily catches you on the way down. Then again, Geno also hurriedly leaned down to do the same, judging by his outstretched arms.

Gently, Shyster places your quivering frame on the stoney ground before going through your bag. Just as you’re about to shut your eyes due to the sheer fatigue fogging all your senses, he abruptly shoves something into your mouth.

You chew slowly, the effort monumental. One of your rainbow beans, then. That means you only have one left…

It takes a few moments after swallowing for your magic to replenish itself. Unfortunately, your head is still smarting and your vision remains a bit blurry around the edges, but it gets the job done: you feel a lot better.

Geno turns to flag down the princess, but the three of you are instead drawn to Mario.

With a mighty leap, the plumber wields his mallet and strikes down hard on Cloaker’s shield, rocketing the iron away and leaving the boss defenseless. Cloaker lashes out with the sword but Mario is equally quick to kick it away. Even if you can barely make out the look of menace crossing the man’s chubby face, it’s still a sight to behold when he rears his arms back, mid-jump, only to abruptly shine a deep blue. _Right; isn’t his emblem a spade_?

The wall of flames that shortly engulf both Cloaker and Earth Link is certainly a sight to behold.

As soon as Mario lands, the plumber’s steely eyes continue to watch as the flames continue consuming both Earth Link and Cloaker. Everyone waits with mild trepidation but after the flames go out, Cloaker and Earth Link don’t attack. Closer inspection shows that, as a result of being some of Smithy’s creations and therefore made of metal, the two are melted if not outright dead.

“Is it over…?” Mallow quietly asks.

He’s answered by the abrupt explosion of the two bosses, which seems to be the general way to know for sure, for sure.

“Good,” you drawl tiredly, eyeing Mario who goes to pick up his hat after the explosion blew it off. Blinking a bit and hating how you still have a bit of adrenaline left over, you pause. Tiny tremors thrum gently against your aching soles, and after waiting a few moments they only seem to be growing larger. “...wait, what’s that?”

“Oh no,” Shyster says below you. His stubby hands grip your calves and he tilts his head at the darkness. “Might wanna hold on to something.”

Following his line of sight shows those large pillars off in the distance, but more importantly the latent coils of Earth Link’s body still writhing around them. But then a closer look shows the explosions are still occuring, which in turn destroy the concrete columns.

You _distinctly_ recall there being coils wrapped around the support beams underneath the very platform you’re on.

You manage a sigh before the tremors eventually make it your platform and apparently destroy the support. You immediately yell as it comes crashing down, probably crushing poor Shyster against you for the second time within minutes.

Everyone falls, far more than your little foray whilst saving Shyster. It’s only when you finally see a platform coming into view, covered with broken fragments of the previous one.

You quickly glance around, see where the others are, and cast yet another Waterspout. Although it’s a difficult spell to control, the turbulent winds manage to pick up everyone and after some effort, they’re pulled into the center alongside you and Shyster. More effort, and you safely land on the new platform alongside everyone else.

“Thanks for the lift!” Mallow chirps. Geno shares the prince’s sentiments and Mario gives you a thumbs up. You return the thumbs up with a wavering smile because _Mario_.

A stunted laugh leaves you. Glancing down at Shyster, you quip, “Guess my daring rescue earlier didn’t really count. Didn’t think there’d be another platform this low.”

Shyster snorts derisively. “Does it look like I have the means to stop myself from a freefall? If it wasn’t for you I would’ve gone splat. So...thanks for the save.”

“Aww, thanks,” you chirp just before his white shoe collides with your toes. It’s not enough to hurt, but enough for you to yip in surprise.

“_That’s_ for jumping when you practically had no magic left! Don’t think I don’t notice.”

You roll your eyes. “_Pfft_, please. What about Booster Tower, huh?”

“...you had a parachute. A _functional_ parachute. Makes all the difference as far as I’m concerned.”

“...fair enough.”

Amidst the chuckles your quarrel gets from the others, you take a moment to glance at your immediate surroundings. The platform is covered in the rubble from the previous one, but what really captures your attention is—

Bowser grunts, “Welp, looks like we made it.”

The Koopa jabs a claw over at what appears to be an iron-welded archway. Unlike the melted, misshapen iron blobs lining all the platforms above, the massive behemoth structure is plated evenly with symmetrical bolts. In essence, this has to be the actual factory.

A breath, slow and shaky, escapes your nostrils.

A small hand pats your thigh. “We’ve made it pretty far in. The only option left is to press onward.”

Your voice catches in your throat; _don’t dwell_.

A hand lands on your shoulder. You offer Geno a strained smile and he returns it. Quietly, he murmurs, “I know. But we’re all in this together, right? Until the end.”

“Until the end,” you echo, albeit faintly. The spirit’s fingers tighten for a fraction of a second before he removes them with a subtle nod.

The two of you watch as the others nod at one another before stalking toward the entrance. There’s no fanfare to getting so far, only a fierce acceptance of what awaits further in the factory.

Mario, in typical silent protagonist fashion, tips his cap and enters the iron archway. Bowser’s fanged maw curls in a grin, and after pressing his fists together, follows the plumber. Toadstool twirls his folded parason and smiles but her blue eyes are hard as she enters. Mallow follows with a cute look of conviction, gripping his Froggie Stick. Shyster pauses to glance back at you, then Geno. He sighs and with a subtle nod, enters the factory.

A small breath sounds next to you. Geno’s scarlet eyes seem to glow in the darkness, face carefully stoic.

“How silly…” he finally murmurs, looking down at his wooden hand, filled with joints befitting the doll he’s embodying. After a beat, he clarifies, “To be scared at this stage, I mean. We’ve come too far to let doubts get in the way.”

“...I don’t think it’s silly at all. I get it; trust me, I do.”

Geno’s mouth curls into a tired smile. “Of course.”

You return his smile and extend a hand. “We’re in this together, right? But...I guess it’s more appropriate to say I understand. Your feelings, I mean.”

The doll eyes soften almost instantly. With a firm grip, he clasps your hand and the two of you shake. It reminds you almost painfully of all those times you struck a deal with Shyster. Then again, now’s not the time to lament what could have been or the what-ifs. Too late for regrets, honestly.

“Right,” Geno nods. “Even if we’re all in this as a team, you’re probably the one who understands my fears most of all.”

“Yeah. But it’s nice, having someone understand. Not being alone.”

Geno’s smile widens ever so slightly. “Of course.”

You release his hand and the two of you make your way over to the entrance, and the light spilling from it. With your heart hammering away behind your ribs, you step foot into Smithy’s factory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *_squeezing out every last drop of character interactions I probably can_*
> 
> Just trying to get through the boss emporium that is the inside of Exor. But beyond that, there's only a few more (equally long and arduous) chapters, my dudes! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!


	23. Melting Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which reader is bullied yet again, this time by a ninja.

You pause alongside the others to take in the factory’s interior. Although you aren’t an engineer at all - far too much math for your tastes - you can appreciate the technical prowess of all the conveyor belts and transport claws. Everything seems to just fit together like clockwork, and the pattern-minded part of your brain is pleased.

What _isn’t_ plasing is seeing nothing but Machine Mades, Drill Bits, and other various metallic enemies on these belts.

The variou hammer enemies lining the belts swing their mallet-shaped heads, shaping the monsters further with echoing _twangs_. Aside from the quiet humming of all the machines and the large ringing caused by the hammers, there’s hardly any other noise. It sorta reminds you of the sterile lab environments you dabbled in once upon a time.

“So what’s the plan?” Geno asks, glancing at you.

You shrug, eyeing the slew of hammers who seem too preoccupied with their job as opposed to the intruders that are you guys. “There should be another door leading further into the factory, but…”

Everyone looks around and you balk a bit. Just like every other damn dungeon, Smithy’s factory is a lot bigger than it was in-game. Hell, there’s even multiple levels with overhanging bridges and platforms! It reminds you of that late-game factory in _MOTHER 3_ or the underground lab in _EarthBound_, for all it’s confusing, winding paths.

“...It’s a lot bigger than I remember,” you admit, much to the displeasure of Shyster. Before he can berate you for such an obvious observation, you quickly add, “But I _do_ know where Smithy is, and as soon as we defeat him, Exor will disappear, including y’know—” You wave at your illuminated surroundings, “—all this.”

“Wait…” You look to Toadstool who purses her lips. “If we defeat Smithy, how will we get out before this place disappears? We...we aren’t going to disappear too, right Sharkbait?”

You half-smile. You glance over at Geno and reassure her, “I wouldn’t worry too much about getting out. We’ll be fine.”

Everyone eyes the spirit, whose red eyes betray his confusion, but once he sees your confidence he relaxes with a shrug. “I’m going to assume it involves retrieving the last Star Piece.”

“Yup!” you chirp.

You go on to explain that, considering the maze-like pathways, your best bet is to explore around a bit. If the Factory Chief or whoever those _Shovel Knight_-looking bosses show up to stop you, you’re probably going the right way. You also warn them that you’ll be fighting multiple Factory Managers, Chiefs, whatevers so it’s best to be on guard, even if you don’t anticipate minor enemy encounters.

“And then there’s Gunyolk, which is this...living tank, I guess?” You scratch your cheek, trying to remember why that particular boss is considered bad. “Right! Point is, it uses the same Breaker Beam the Axem Rangers used, except it doesn’t have to charge it up. It just, like, shoots it. Wouldn’t recommend it, by the way; the Breaker Beam hurts a _lot_.”

Geno grimaces. “Great. And I’m assuming you know where Smithy is?”

You nod. “If it’s like I remember, then Smithy should be a bit after the Gunyolk encounter. Chances are if there’s a room with three pipes - the center one which I distinctly recall spitting up Drill Bits - it’s the room right before Smithy. As for Smithy, he’s on the other end of the center pipe. Or should be, at least.”

“Sounds good to me,” Shyster says. “We just follow the torrent of weapons back to their source, who I presume is Smithy.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?!” Mallow hops up with his Froggie Stick clutched close. “The sooner we can beat Smithy, the sooner we can repair the Star Road and—and save everyone!”

Bowser grunts, “While I admire the spirit, kid, where do you suggest we go? This place is practically a maze! Now that I think of it…Hey ‘stache, how’s about I make my keep the same way for next time, eh? Whaddya say?”

The Koopa just snorts, smoke billowing from his nostrils, when answered with Mario’s glare. For being a silent protagonist, the plumber is very good at making his thoughts obvious, like maybe hurling Bowser off into the endless abyss just outside the factory. You figure it’s just a friendly rivalry thing going on between them; surely Bowser is still invited to parties and kart racing, right?

“I take it you, um, don’t know the exact way to get around,” Toadstool questions and you nod.

You rake over the surrounding area, seeing a few paths leading to several other entryways. And is that a set of stairs you see…? Sighing, you admit, “Honestly, I think our best bet is to just...look for trouble, honestly. Sooo....yeah.”

The princess nods and peeks around before finally glancing down at Shyster. “I don’t know about the others, but I think I remember Sharkbait mentioning you’re a tracker? Would you maybe be able to guide us?”

Shyster shrugs. “Guess so since no one else seems to know where to go.” His head rises and he scans the area, probably piecing together how the various conveyor belts are aligned with one another to find the source. “...then again, this place is too big to get an accurate read on how things are bein’ processed. We should probably get a bird’s eye-view and take it from there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Geno says while the others nod in tandem.

You point to what looks like the nearest set of stairs and your group gradually begins to head in that direction—

“_Wh-wait_…!”

You feel your face light up in recognition, almost stumbling over yourself as you turn around. Sure enough, a lone Toad is scampering into the factory's entrance, frame nearly overshadowed by the sheer bulk of the bag he’s carrying.

Everyone pauses as he comes to a fumbling halt. He catches his breath with his hands on his knees, but you manage to hear him quietly utter “whew, what a madhouse.” While you’re _very_ curious how a single, non-combative Toad made it through Exor’s interior, you opt to just wait until he’s comfortable enough to explain himself.

It takes a few moments, but the Toad is quick to slap on a grin when he sees your party. “Oh man, you guys have no idea how hard it was getting this far with all _this_.”

He plops his bag down for everyone to see; nothing but various syrups, status drinks, and mushrooms.

“Oh my…” Toadstool breathes quietly, to which the Toad blushes profusely and rubs the back of his...cap? Head?

“_Ha ha_, fancy seeing you here, Princess!” The Toad then shrugs off Toadstool’s vehement apologies for leaving so soon after returning to the Mushroom Kingdom—more so for leaving without informing anyone. “Oh, yeah, no, pretty much everyone knew you left; always trying your best for our fair kingdom, after all! But I gotta admit, it sure was hard keeping the Chancellor on the down-low. Even more since, uh, all this is from the royal vault.”

“Y’know, I’m more surprised that fungus over here managed to make it this far,” Bowser quips, to which you, Shyster, and even Mario nods.

The Toad merely shrugs and shoves the bag with the tip of his boot. “I’ll be the first to admit I’m no soldier, so getting this far was...an ordeal.” Planting his fists on his hips, he then proclaims, “But! If our princess is off, giving her all to save not only the Mushroom Kingdom but the _world_, well, then I can _also_ give it my all! Even if I drew the short straw, but that's not really important...Just warning you I might’ve taken a few Mushrooms for myself, _ehehe_...but help yourselves! Consider this a gift from us, back at the castle.”

Shyster holds up a Max Mushroom. “You mean this stuff’s for free?”

Toad _psshes_. “You guys are practically standing at Smithy’s doorstep, and you expect me to charge you for these last-minute items?”

You can’t help but make a so-so motion. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Toad waves a hand. “I don’t want your stinkin’ coins. I want Smithy gone—preferably permanently! Heck, I’d take Bowser invading our kingdom every other day than dealing with walking, talking weapons. Not to say he doesn’t already come that often, but...you know.”

You, Shyster, and Mario snort at the extremely nonplussed look Bowser is burning into the little guy, but Toad doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, Toad takes a moment to look around the factory’s interior himself as everyone uses the items to heal up, you included.

Still, you can’t help but reminisce a bit, thinking about your time spent in the Mushroom Kingdom. Sidling up to Toad and his familiar frame, you hesitate briefly. “Um...do you—how are Mr. Shroomby and Mr. Mycil?”

Toad eyes you up and down before recognition flits across his features. “Oh, right! You must be Urchin, the human who was always running around doing Mr. Mycil’s bidding and rooming with Mr. Shroomby?”

At your confirming nod - no use in telling him you go by Sharkbait now - Toad grins. “Those two are doing well, all things considered. Even if most of my work involves being a busboy for the castle, I do see them every now and then. Seems like they both miss you. Mr. Mycil makes jokes about having an errand guy back in the day, and Mr. Shroomby…well, the innkeeper seems to miss you a lot. Whenever I make a delivery there, he says as much, even going so far as to ask if we’ve heard any news of you.”

Toad’s smile softens when he seems to realize how choked up you probably look. Still, you shoot your wavering grin down at him, “Th-thanks for telling me. I...I miss them, too.” Your fingers tighten around the leash of your bag. “Could...could I ask a favor, for when you return?”

Toad nods. “I think I know what it is, but yeah, I’ll pass along a message.”

“Just…” You eye the worn yellow canvas at your side. “Can you please tell them ‘thank you for everything’? Especially Mr. Mycil, since I never really got the chance to tell him before I left in the first place.”

Toad doesn’t seem fazed by your wording; rather, your words belying the very real possibility you won’t make it back to tell them yourself. Because at the end of the day, you have no idea when you’ll...leave. Maybe it’ll be when Geno does, or maybe it’ll be as soon as you’ve beaten Smithy. The uncertainty is awful, but it’s easy enough to push to the back of your mind, what with everything else you have to worry about.

Still, you don’t mutter a word of your doubts, instead letting Toad connect his own dots. He does, saying, “Ah...I guess Smithy must be a formidable enemy, but...you guys have held up this far, so I have no doubt you’ll take care of him! And even if you don’t know it, we’re all rooting for you! In the Mushroom Kingdom, Moleville, even as far as Monstro Town—those Sky Troopas have been spreading the word far and wide, after all. Everyone’s cheering you on!”

A hand places itself on your shoulder, startling you a bit. “He’s right,” Geno’s voice echoes next to you.

“We can’t afford to lose,” Shyster quips just before Bowser exclaims, “Like I’m gonna let that punk off the hook!”

Toadstool nods alongside Mario, hoisting her parasol over a shoulder and joining in. “For the sake of my kingdom and my people—no, for the world, we’ll fix the Star Road!”

“Yeah!” Mallow pipes up behind you. “I’ve got lots of people I wanna protect, from Tadpole Pond to Nimbus Land—and my friends! We’re gonna belt Smithy good, just you wait!”

Toad claps once. “That’s exactly the kind of stuff I wanna hear, especially now! Glad we could help out; just in the nick of time, too.”

Once it’s abundantly clear you’re all done using the healing items, leaving only half the bag filled, Toad waves at you all. Hurling the sack over his shoulder, he idly comments on how much lighter it is before announcing, “Well, I guess this is where we part ways; gotta get back to the Mushroom Kingdom before the Chancellor can freak out.”

“Oi, how do you even plan on getting out—” Bowser starts, but Toad doesn’t stay to answer, instead scampering over a few conveyor belts. You watch with detached fascination as Toad manages to worm his way onto a higher platform where Drill Bits are being sucked into a pipe hanging from the ceiling. Being as tiny as he is, he easily slides up into the pipe before, presumably, exiting the factory alongside the Drill Bits. “...huh. Didn’t see that coming.”

“I’ll say,” Shyster snorts a bit. Hefting his backpack a bit, he peeks around and motions toward a set of stairs. “We should probably head out, now that we’re in good enough shape to take on the factory.”

“Of course.” Geno nods and moves to the front of the group, back turned to you all. He remains that way for a moment, clearly taking in the factory. “...all right. Time to find Smithy and take back the last Star Piece.”

When he finally turns around, there’s nothing but fierce conviction brimming in his red eyes. You find yourself mimicking his expression, and from your peripherals you see the others doing so too.

“Let’s go,” Shyster sums up, always making his way to lead.

You don’t hesitate to follow, adrenaline thrumming through your vessels.

*** * * * * * ***

“Halt! Who goes there?”

A golden, armored monster stands before you, a crew of those hammer-headed enemies flanking both its sides. Although you can’t see into the distinctly _Shovel Knight_-like helmet, the suspicious and downright vicious glares the hammers wear attests that this won’t end in anything but a fight. Which honestly, kinda intimidates you since you remember these helmeted guys being like Goombas; y’know, short and squat, no legs to speak of…?

Turns out they’re built like the Axem Rangers. So the guy’s basically a fully armored knight, hulking frame close to that of your resident dragon’s. Because really, what else could Bowser be? Lizard-like? Check. Breathes fire? Yup. Automatically a dragon.

“I’m guessing that’s one of the guys we gotta fight,” Bowser says, glancing at you from the corners of his eyes.

“You said that last part out loud,” Shyster supplies below you. The telltale clinking of his mace’s chain causes the...Clerk? Whatever; the Clerk lifts his own halberd in response.

The knight’s rumbling voice shortly bellows, “Seize them!”

Aaand you’re right into it, immediately scampering behind the others as they clamor to get close. Once you’re further back alongside Mallow, the prince shoots you a quick grin. “We mages oughta stick together, right Sharkbait?”

You hurl a Diamond Saw at the nearby mallets, grinning when they’re shoved back from the force. “Of course, lil’ guy! Might wanna spam some lightning magic; I think the hammers are weak to it.”

“Gotcha!” Mallow gathers the crackling energy between his palms before casting a Thunderbolt once the hammers stumble too far from the others. Once the brief flash dissipates, two of the four hammers have been reduced to cinders. “All right!”

“Keep it up,” you cheer, stomping on to the ground and conjuring a Storm under the Clerk’s feet, blinding him to Shyster’s mace. The thunderous _clang_ of metal against metal is like music to your ears; unless it’s that sharp grating sound, in which case it sucks.

With Mallow taking care of the hammers, your attention is drawn to the knight. Being made of metal, he must sport impressive defense since all the melee attacks don’t seem to stall him too badly. But whenever a wayward spell hits him, boy does he falter in swinging around his halberd. The other, magically inclined members of the group quickly catch on, and soon enough fireballs and Geno Beams join the fray with abandon.

A solid-sounding _thwack_ signifies Bowser hurling himself against the Clerk’s shield. The Koopa seems dazed only for a moment, but he shoves the boss back enough for you to unleash a localized Water Blast.

The steam settles quickly, but it smokescreens a Geno Whirl. The blazing circlet hits its mark with another metallic boom and pained grunt. A paltry Storm later leaves you with the sight of the Clerk, kneeling on the ground using his halberd as a makeshift stand.

“_Eurgh_…” He groans, trembling with the effort of holding himself up. “Ten years I’ve been here...production won’t halt so easily. You interlopers have no chance against the boss…!”

You all watch as the Clerk curls in on himself, guttural hacking filling the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Just as he falters and goes to faceplant, he spontaneously explodes in a poof of white smoke. Luckily, no one’s close enough to actually suffer any burns, but you could feel the heat from where you are a few feet away.

Pursing your lips at how his last words makes you feel sorta bad - ten years…? You snuffed out a life that was never intended to be just another goon - you look over everyone else. Judging by how Mario tips his cap uncomfortably and the princess’s smile looks painfully forced, you think your train of thought isn’t so isolated.

“...we should probably go on,” Shyster interrupts, nodding toward the nearby hall. “Seems like he was guarding this way, so it’s our best bet for finding Smithy.”

A chorus of nods and paltry healing session later, you limp behind the others as you delve further into the factory.

You try to keep up, but you have to admit you’ve well passed your limit. Cursing your stupid, crummy joint, you also can’t deny that everyone else is looking a bit banged up too. Then again, you’ve...what? Traversed through some of Bowser’s Keep, beat both Boomer and Exor, then hiked through all of those floating concrete platforms...in, like, the past day?

“Do you need a break?” Shyster’s voice interrupts your thoughts.

Refusing to meet his eyes - your winces will give it away - you shake your head. “Nah; if we stop I might not be able to get back up.”

“...and you somehow think that response will dash my concern? You’re ridiculous—and limping heavily, might I add.”

“_Bah_, details,” you retort, hating how much your leg is trembling. The effort to keep upright is monumental, probably due in part to that concussion you received earlier. That and the fact you’re predisposed to some gnarly vertigo, but that’s whatever. “I just need some more adrenaline and I’ll be fine.”

Shyster’s glare is obvious even if you’re not looking. “Again, you aren’t helping your case. Then again—”

To your mortification, Shyster raises his voice from private murmuring to exaggeratedly announce, “—it’d be a shame if you needed a break ‘cause your knee’s about to blow out.”

“...welp,” you remark, hating the deep flush that’s probably putting your bandana to shame, “there’s that adrenaline. Ah, embarrassment, my old friend.”

You can’t help but wilt and hate yourself just a bit more when everyone halts to look back. Geno’s the first to step toward you and, not unkindly, offers, “If you need to rest, it’s really no problem at all. It might also allow us the chance to gather our bearings, maybe even do some more planning.”

“Eh, I tend to do things without the planning; usually turns out pretty good for me!” you chirp. At the spirit’s raised brow and Shyster’s quiet judgement emanating from below, you relent, “At least in academia; winging presentations is actually pretty fun, not gonna lie. Buuut...I guess fighting is a whole ‘nother ball game.” The looks don’t let up, so you throw your hands up in exasperation. “_Ugh_, fine.”

As soon as you travel just a bit further down the hall and reach another set of stairs, Shyster immediately leads you over. Unceremoniously, you half-plop down, half-fall because your knee gives, read: bends inwards a little

Once you settle in, Shyster asks, “You okay?”

“...I guess,” you quietly seethe, then immediately chastise yourself. Before your attitude can offend him, you shrug and apologize. “Sorry, I just...hate all this waiting. I don’t want to—to have the time to think, y’know? It’s like the more you overthink things, the worse they become? Least that’s how it's always turned out for me…”

Shyster is smart enough to put two and two together. Then again, you suppose you spilled your guts to him...a day ago. Wow, it’s only been a day when it feels more like a lifetime that’s passed. Ha ha; pun.

Taking a seat besides you, Shyster eyes everyone else, who’ve dispersed into their own little groups. “Stop beating yourself up for things out of your control. Besides, I get the distinct feeling you’re not alone in your desire to keep going; lookit plumber boy over there.”

You snort at the derisive name but do so. Mario...looks just a little impatient if his persistent tapping foot says anything. His crossed arm only adds fuel to the fire of guilt for bringing them down—

“No,” Shyster interrupts, “I know that look. What did I just get done saying? The point I’m trying to make is that he’s pretty beat up, right?”

You take in the plumber’s rather grimy clothes, which seems to be a shared trait amongst your group. Geno’s cape has certainly seen better days. And Shyster...well, he’s digging through his bag only to procure that sewing kit he got all the way back in Seaside Town. He retrieves a spool of red string and begins working on the various tears in his robe.

Quieter so Mallow can’t hear, he quips, “I know we’re all psyching ourselves up for the grand finale and all that, but no one’s invincible, despite how Mr. Jumpman over there likes to believe himself to be. I betcha everyone else feels about as shit as they look, so chin up. We’re in this together—even the feeling like crap parts. They don’t call it adventure for nothing.”

You snort again. “Fair enough. I mean, it’s not like the world at large has kicked my ass more times than I can count. Let’s see here...got bullied by a Lakitu, was sold out by Croco and hunted by pirates, almost fell off Booster Tower—”

“We _did_ fall off Booster Tower.”

“—no, you _jumped_ like a madman,” you roll your eyes. “Then there was being captured by pirates, being hostages but not really, Yaridovich sucked, Nimbus Land also sucked, aaand, uh. All the times I was almost stabbed and that one time I actually was. Can’t forget that. Oh! And what about the time you swooped in and saved me from - guess what - being stabbed? And I almost forgot about Bahamutt; I basically got stabbed a bunch of times for the price of one! _Aha_; please don’t hurt me.”

Shyster pauses long enough for his vehement glare to shut you up; a miraculous feat, really. But he settles for shaking his head and resuming his quick patchwork, needling away even without nimble fingers to guide it.

You smile warmly when he looks away, taking in his tiny figure. He’s made it all worth it; you shouldn’t be rushing ahead just to avoid thinking about the end. You shouldn’t be stalling, either, but you can make do spending just a bit more time alongside your...your _partner_. In crime, even, since he _is_ a petty thief at heart. Hell, he stole your undying - or is it dying? - loyalty.

_Ahh_, there it is: the crushing sentimentality of all self-inserts nearing the end of their journey.

...haven’t you done this before, though?

“Honestly,” Shyster pipes up, still focusing on his needle, “I don’t think you gave those clowns enough credit; I clearly recall Knife Guy threatening us.”

Absentmindedly, you agree. “Yeah...him and Grate Guy sure were annoying. Helpful, but annoying.”

“Danger magnet…” Shyster mutters, dare you think, fondly. “And look at where that’s brought us: about to face down the tyrant responsible for all this bullshit. Can’t wait to put more than a few dents in the guy.”

Your lips quirk up. “Wouldn’t have been able to come this far without you, you know. Thanks, for...everything, I guess.” You laugh, short and stunted. “Sorry; just feeling a tad nostalgic.”

He doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t need to. You both know what you really mean to say: you don’t have much time left to make new memories. The ones you currently have - the ones that have built the foundation of your time here - will have to suffice before you leave.

Faintly, a recollection of the clown brother’s words resurface.

“Hey…”

Shyster perks up, halting his sewing to look at you. Belatedly, you return his stare. You have no idea what your face is currently doing, but it’s enough to warrant a concerned shift in the Shy Guy’s mask.

You swallow dryly. “Can I…”

You trail off, abruptly keen to the discomfort lingering at the edges of your mind.

Fingers intertwine with one another before deciding to tangle instead in the faded red cloth at your neck. The worn fabric is comfortable, but the sharp saltiness of it has faded over time. No longer does it smell of Johnny, or even the Sunken Ship; it smells like you, now. Either scent would have been familiar regardless. The ocean and you are practically one and the same, now.

“...forget about it,” you finally relent, albeit awkwardly. “It’s really not a big deal; I’ll tell you later.”

False reassurances that he, rightly, doesn’t buy. “...it obviously can’t be nothing if you’re this worked up about it. If you don’t wanna spill that’s fine, but know I’m here if you need someone to listen. Okay?”

You open your mouth but no words come. How could they, trapped behind your fluttering heart?

The clown brothers had made you feel reassured, prattling on about “your role” and how the others “won’t forget you so easily.” And the scary part is that you’ve never thrown a second thought at the subject, because why would you?

At the beginning of everything, you discussed such a topic with Shyster. How you lied about wanting to do something meaningful because what else was left for you, aside from a cold, deep grave? But you had lied, fooled even yourself into believing those words were falsehoods, made to cover up the vulnerabilities you’ve carried as long as you can remember.

You had a happy childhood, once. Vaguely, you recall seeing miniature versions of yourself smile, open and wide and genuine, caught on camera. No such photos were taken after your family fell apart. Frankly, you don’t remember smiling—genuinely smiling as much as you have since coming here.

You thought you’d make nothing of yourself, too busy in your grief and facades to do anything worthwhile. You thought that it’d be fine to disappear with nothing of note to be chronicalled next to your name.

Things changed when you did disappear; when you died having accomplished nothing of value.

It wasn’t okay then and it’s not okay now. You weren’t lying when you told Geno you were scared; you’re not scared to die again, but you _are_ plenty terrified of doing so with no one else to remember you. To remember you as you are now, happier than you’ve been in a long, long time.

Because now, you feel just as bright and beautiful as the others, who’ve always been illuminated in your eyes. You had always stood by, passive, in everyone else’s shadows, afraid their brilliance would burn you. Hating them for having something you had lost.

Now it’s different. Now you think you’re just as bright as them.

...is that too much to ask for? To be remembered?

The fact you tamed your tongue to hide your question is enough of an answer. It’s too selfish, even for you. It’s basically like asking for a major-guilt complex to arise in the future, because at the end of the day, the dead shouldn’t impact the living so much that they lose that brilliance.

Plus in the face of Shyster’s keen eye, it’d basically be a dead giveaway to your ultimate fate. Ha ha...

Like he said; you just want others to be happy. Because that would make _you_ happy, even if you won’t be around.

So you just smile at Shyster and reaffirm that you’ll tell him later, even if such a later existing is up in the air. And the Shy Guy, ever the level-headed and no-nonsense one, lets it go without much of a fuss. Sure, he’s observant as heck and probably can parce together something about your latent desires, but he won’t bring them up when they’re inconsequential at large.

“Later,” he repeats, voice firm and tone leaving little room for argument.

With a nod and deft knot, he snaps his string and sets the needle aside, robe patched for the time being. And you watch him replace everything back in his bag, rejoicing in that trademark steadfastness of his. Out of everyone here, his is the light you find the most comfortable to stand beside.

You rest for a dozen or so more minutes before everyone seems ready to move on. Shyster helps you from your seat with practised ease and soon enough you fall into step alongside the others. Your limp is not as bad, but your joint is still obviously swollen.

You don’t miss the glimpse of scarlet eyes under a curled fringe, glinting with reassurances. You smile back at the spirit, sending a thanks to him and his Star Road—without them, you would’ve never met Shyster.

“All right,” the Shy Guy announces, still the one leading the charge, “I think we should head over here next.”

You follow without question.

*** * * * * * ***

With a monumental _clang_, Mario leaps back and surveys his handiwork. Said handiwork results in the Director - he actually stated his title - groaning before going up in an explosion of smoke.

You let your Diamond Saws dissipate and sigh. Turning to the nearest person who just so happens to be Toadstool, you quip, “Y’know, for being just some plumber, Mario’s...not the kinda guy I’d like to run into in a dark alleyway.”

The princess’s eyes dart over to where Mario is brushing himself free of residual soot before smiling back at you. “Oh, he’s not so scary! Sure, he packs a mean wallop, but he means well.”

“Says you,” Bowser grumbles from behind her. Further back shows Shyster nodding along. The Koopa continues, jabbing a thumb at the plumber, “Sharkbait raises a good point; why is the local hero and my mortal enemy a glorified plunger-dipper? Isn’t he supposed to be, oh, I dunno, _plumbing_?”

You snort alongside Shyster before waving at Mario. Once he sees, he looks over questioningly before you ask, “Hey Mario, hu-how often do you actually plumb? Is...is that even a word…?”

Mario scratches the side of his head, mustache twitching alongside his lips. Finally he settles for an exaggerated shrug, then thinks better of it and makes a so-so motion.

“Makes you wonder if bein’ a hero is his _actual_ job,” Shyster quips. “There’s a reason why us little guys call him Mr. massacre.”

Mario, clearly listening in, looks distinctly unimpressed and shoots the Shy Guy a blaise look. Shyster waves his arm like he’s shooing away the plumber. “Yeah, yeah, I said what I said. Now keep those boots away from my head and stick to jumping on the bigger assholes around here.”

The plumber’s surprise is shortly exchanged for disgruntlement and a cross of his arms, but he says nothing more. Not that he actually talks, but the dude’s like an open book when it comes to communicating regardless.

But you fall into a short bout of laughter alongside Bowser, who even goes so far to clap you on the back and send you into the floor by doing so. “And I’m pretty sure the shortstack ain’t talkin’ about me, hotshot,” Bowser quips, eyeing the unflappable Mario, “so put away that glare. No, seriously; it’s...unnerving.”

Geno interrupts with a stunted cough. “Now that we’ve established how odd it is that a plumber has been tasked with saving the world, shouldn’t we go...save the world, maybe?”

Despite moving on from the scorched platform of your latest battle with another of those _Shovel Knight_ bosses - it was the third one - you still fall into line with Toadstool and Mario.

“You know, I never thought about it before, but it does seem sort of...odd my kingdom’s safety relies heavily on a plumber,” the princess relents.

A look of hurt flashes across Mario’s face and, being as tall as she is, the princess misses it. Hurriedly, you spit out, “Buh-but I mean, like, being a plumber is pretty neat! Like, don’t they make bank—er, make a lot of money? I mean, it’s a trade and trades are all the rage now, or at least it seems like it…”

Toadstool grins easily. “Oh, of course! Mario’s such a hard-working guy; always saving either me or our kingdom! And I wouldn’t trade him or his deeds for anything. He’s a hero, through and through!”

And she promptly leans down to wrap her arms around the portly man, whose face immediately matches the bright red of his trademark cap. _Aww_, cute.

Releasing the now-dreamily smiling man, Toadstool rears back up with a clenched fist. “And now we’re all here to save our world—and save Geno’s Star Road! I say it’s about time for me to finally help my kingdom out anyhow. Even if it’s alongside our local hero, who’s to say the rest of us aren’t all heroes too? As far as I’m concerned, we _are_!”

You beam at her feistiness. “Y-yeah! We’re gonna take it to Smithy!”

Mario shakes himself, readorning himself with a resolute frown before nodding hastily. Toadstool nods too, before announcing, “We’ll make our world a peaceful one, just you wait!”

You nod along, cheerfulness innervating your system in place of the lingering anxiety. “I can’t wait to kick Smithy’s butt; revenge for that time he indirectly stabbed me through Yaridovich! But more than that, I...I wanna help because I can protect my fu-friends! I’m—I’m strong enough to do that, now…!”

When you glance at everyone else, you’re surprised to find both Geno and Shyster appraising you. Before the spirit can say anything, Shyster shakes his head and remarks, “For someone who attests to being non-confrontational, you sure have a way with being oddly threatening; pretty sure that’s Johnny’s fault, but it suits us fine. With your foreknowledge _and_ freakishly strong magic, hopefully this endeavor will be a cinch.”

Completely disregarding the subtle jab, you chirp, “C’mon, lookit us! I’d like to see Smithy take on...a star spirit from Star Road, a magical prince, a bombastic princess, a giant fire-breathing turtle—”

“Hey!”

“—a cute but no less deadly Shy Guy—”

“_I-I’m not cute, for stars sake_!”

Pointing at yourself, you continue, “—a temperamental gimp, aaand...a plumber. _Snnnrt_; sorry, sorry, I couldn’t resist! How’s about the Mushroom Kingdom’s very own hero, eh? Jumpman himself!”

Mario seems appeased, raised brow settling and mustache twitching up in a grin.

Geno stifles his own laughter, shoulders shaking in mirth. “I’m sure with everyone here, Smithy won’t stand a chance. And...maybe this is just me, but doesn’t it seem like we’ll be facing him soon?”

Multiple eyes glance your way; seer time. “Oh yeah, we’re getting pretty close to Smithy. We took care of the three knight-looking guys...so that leaves the Factory Chief and Gunyolk left, I think.” Before anyone can question you, you hurriedly explain everything you can recall about the duel boss, mainly that the Chief can turn others into mushrooms and that Gunyolk utilizes the same Breaker Beam as the Axem Rangers had.

Once they feel equipped enough to manage the risks, you all share near simultaneous nods and continue your exploration of the factory’s interior.

Luckily, it seems like the group shared a collective gut feeling, because as soon as you step foot into a new room you hear the automated sound of doors shutting behind you.

“Well, if it isn’t Mario and his motley crew,” a ninja-garbed man intones snidely.

You appraise him, disliking how most of the guys in the factory share a body plan similar to actual people instead of, like, Goombas with their stumply little feet. Or like most _Kirby_ enemies, since you’re pretty sure an enemy looking like a walking ball would ease your adrenaline.

But like with the Axem Ranger, the Factory Chief just straight up looks like a normal human, legs and all. Not a single inch of skin can be seen under his black bodysuit. But the bright magenta boots and belt kinda ruin the whole ninja theme, at least in your opinion. Then again, the dude didn’t even try and sneak up on your group. Cutscene incompetence apparently applies to the bosses as well as the heroes. Or he wanted to make a statement like a cool guy. You glance at his clothes again. Probably the latter.

“I’m surprised you made it this far,” he remarks off-handedly. “Then again, you should savor the moment, since this will be the end of the line for you. You won’t live to see Smithy so long as I’m here.”

The Factory Chief saunters back despite the slew of dirty looks your group is aiming his way. Nonchalantly, he halts before a large metallic contraption that you missed; it blends in nearly seamlessly with the similar metal background of the factory.

Withdrawing a kunai from his belt, the ninja pats the hunk of metal. “_Harrumph_. Be it by my blade or through my latest invention, you’ll end up as nothing more than fodder. Prepare for oblivion!”

What _is_ very ninja-like about the Chief is that he’s frickin’ _fast_. Like, you only saw him pry out a single kunai but you’re pretty sure you just dodged, like, three of them.

You clamor back up onto shaky legs, eyes scouring the various conveyor belts and lifts. Somehow, the guy’s flagrant pink accents are lost as is his black bodysuit. In essence, you have zero idea where he went. Fear creeps into your gut and pools there like an ice floe, but an abrupt groaning demands your attention.

Like the rest of your party, you watch with bated breath as the giant tank-like monster finally awakens. A few more shifts and Gunyolk joins the fray, frontal cannons firing a hail of bullets.

Bowser immediately jumps in front of Mallow, the bullets ricocheting nearly harmlessly off his shell. Still, his pained glare attests to the force and you make a mental note to stay far, far away from the tank.

From the main seat of the tank rises a blob of animate magma. The otherwise cartoony face puffs up and breathes out a line of fire, similar to what Bowser is capable of. Is—you’re pretty sure Gunyolk didn’t have any fire spells, so what gives?

A blur of black appears in your peripheral and you don’t hesitate to fling a couple Diamond Saws. The spell clashes against a support beam, the Factory Chief long gone. But an orange circlet whizzes past you before a pained grunt echoes about, the ninja falling from an overhead perch shortly after.

The roar of explosions ring out, and a risky glance back shows the princess with an armful of bombs. Gunyolk doesn’t seem too perturbed by them until she rears back and hurls a distinctly blue bomb at the tank, which explodes in a shower of what looks like glitter. Wait; frost…? An ice bomb?

Something whistles through the air alongside the perpetual fire of bullets. Geno yells something but the words are lost to the abrupt ringing in your ears and stinging in your side. A kunai embeds itself into the metallic floor, glistening with red. God _damnit_; this was your last good shirt!

Applying pressure to the new wound in your side, you bite your lip and search for the Chief. Geno approaches you, arm cannon held in his other hand. “Are you okay?”

Your eyes flicker over the background, trying to spot even a sliver of magenta. You nod shakily but maintain the pressure; you’ve got too much adrenaline which means a heightened heart rate which means more blood loss. Can’t afford to lose focus now.

Geno seems to pick up on it and stands to fill your blindspot. He shifts and immediately lifts his gun, uttering, “There—”

You follow his eyes and don’t hesitate to cast a wide-ranging Water Blast. The explosions are lost to the cacophony of the others engaging Gunyolk, but the heated steam wafting around the battlefield reveals the Factory Chief, his garb standing out against the white.

“Damn pests…!” he hisses, but a beam of condensed light forces him to jump down.

As soon as he lands with a flourish and flip, he doesn’t hesitate to immediately dash your way. In a fit of either stupidity or blind rage, you limp past Geno’s outstretched arm and meet the boss halfway, magic already pooling underfoot.

Like snapping a rubber band back, you release your hold and a powerful Storm erupts beneath you and the Factory Chief. The ninja grunts in pain as do you; your own magic hurts you too. You’re taking a page from Mario’s book, what with his fight with Johnny, but you’re more than willing to take a few hits if it means downing your enemy that much quicker.

Sure, maybe you underestimated how quick the ninja is, but in the time you conjure a Diamond Saw he lands at least three good slices into your forearm. Thankful you can’t really feel the injuries - thanks adrenaline! - you whip your latent spell out, a tiny flick of magic causing it to whirl in your grasp.

But there’s a flaw in your plan.

You had meant to slice through his neck using your magical buzzsaw, but his distinctly humanesque frame causes you enough pause to reconsider, even if only for a moment. But it’s enough: like slow motion, your spell slices into the man’s neck easily enough, and the feeling is so alien and unsettling and _wrong_ that your magic recedes.

The latent sparks your action caused are still drifting to the floor when the ninja rears back and plants the flat of his foot in your gut. You fly backwards only to be caught by Geno, who fires his star-shaped bullets in retaliation as you retch in his grasp.

“_Stars above_,” his voice carries a dangerous undercurrent, and it’s so unlike him you can’t help but grimace. Geno seems to notice, shooting down an apologetic look before maintaining his steely gaze on the Chief. “I’m quick enough to keep up with him; leave him to me. And go see Toadstool.”

You nod, still gathering your breath and willing away the urge to vomit. It’s only after the spirit gently deposits you on the ground to go hand-to-hand with the Factory Chief that you glance down and—oh. That’s...a lot of blood. You’re not sure if it’s from the hole in your side or the three deep cuts along your forearm.

You gag again, averting your eyes to focus on getting back up. Shaky legs manage to pull you over to the princess, who was tending to a battered-looking Bowser before she looks over at you. Her eyes go wide as she takes in your rather substantial injuries. Least to say, you’re pretty sure if they’re not taken care of within the next few minutes you run the risk of bleeding out. A quick glance back shows a tiny trail of smeared blood.

“Um,” you start. “Sorry in advance if you slip.”

You’re healed in short order, idly watching Mario and Bowser ream on Gunyolk’s outer shell. A mace joins the fray and puts a fresh dent in one of the front-facing cannons, rendering it inoperable. A stinging feeling races up your feet just as a Shocker engulfs the boss.

Small currents of electricity dance across its metal casing, but it seems like the others have got Gunyolk mostly figured out. It’s apparently going a lot easier than your side, since that ice bomb from before apparently froze the monster, rendering it inoperable for a good minute or two. Could be why you haven’t heard endless bullets.

But the way the tank shudders, a myriad of machinery noises ringing out, ignites a memory. “Hey Mallow,” you begin, stretching your healed forearm and idly wiping away the remaining blood, “I think Gunyolk’s weak to lightning magic.”

The prince’s icy magic dissipates, leaving the slightest chill. “Oh? Okay then, I guess I’ll stick to Shockers from now on!”

After a quick thanks, the prince powers up another spell and lets it rip. Gunyolk shifts, apparently using some unseen wheels to try and move out of the way, but it fails as the edge of the magic clearly singes its side. It shudders again, _clicking_ and _clanking_ like it’s trying to retaliate beneath its paralysis.

Above the struggling Gunyolk, the roar of firing bullets ring out. A line of holes spontaneously appears near your foot, and looking back shows the Factory Chief and Geno still exchanging speedy blows. They’re nearly too fast to keep up with.

You nod over at Mario, the second fastest one here and the one who’s currently wearing the Jinx Belt. He notices and with a resolute expression, returns the motion before tipping his cap and running off to support the spirit.

You take the place of the plumber, finding it immensely easier to help against a mostly sedentary target like Gunyolk as opposed to the speedy Factory Chief. Still doesn’t mean you don’t glance back every so often, catching a blur of blur, red, and black meeting with a clash of steel against wood.

You limp back once the tank finally fires back. A hail of bullets whistle through the air, forcing you to be quick on your feet. With the sharp pains lancing through your knee and up your leg, you know the joint’s well beyond its limit. Even so, you can’t afford to not dance around the arena, chucking your spells with abandon.

“Aim for the turrets!” Shyster yells over the relentless sounds of gunfire. “Makes the thing internally combust if it tries to shoot outta the busted ones!”

Heeding his advice, you quell your wild casting and wait for more opportune moments. Sure, your aim has gotten a lot better, but you’d rather Mallow cast a Shocker to paralyze the thing so as to make the most of your stores. Plus it’s easier to hit a stopped foe than one who tends to drive around haphazardly, unlike it’s in-game counterpart.

If there’s one thing you can jot down on things you kinda knew but never understood, it’s that tanks are, well, pretty tanky.

Mallow extends his arms, shouting, “How about _this_—!” A second later, another thunderous boom shakes the room as Shocker manifests beneath Gunyolk. If you had to guess, the prince has cast the spell at least a dozen times, but the damn hunk of junk doesn’t look _close_ to going caput.

The times Gunyolk remains paralyzed seem to be growing shorter, too. Toadstool is barely able to chuck a couple of bombs at it before it shudders, retaliating with a crank of one of its frontal cannons. Before the massive cannonball can blast away your only healer, Bowser shovers her out of the way, taking the hit himself.

You, Mallow, and Shyster seem to share the same idea. You conjure a Storm around the tank, obscuring its view at the same moment the prince casts a weak Thunderbolt. A gong-like ring then attests to Shyster’s mace making contact through your spell.

It doesn’t take long for the princess to heal Bowser up. As soon as your magic dissipates, the Koopa is already running at the tank, raking his claws into its metal shell with a, frankly, horrendous screeching noise.

The five of you fall back into slowly whittling away at Gunyolk. It’s...odd how easy this seems to be—oh. Right.

“Destroy the big turret in front of it!” you cry, hurling twin Diamond Saws at it. The solidified magic barely scratches the steel, meaning that this particular cannon is built much more durably; it has to be the one. “It’ll use Breaker Beam; hurry!”

Not wanting a repeat of that experience, you join into effort to completely disarm the central turret. Gunyolk swerves around and you’re forced to jump out of its way; not like you could survive being run over. It manages to separate you from the rest of the group, but you figure that’s fine since you prefer long distances anyway.

Over the roar of battle and storm of bullets pinging off the metallic walls and apparatuses, a whistle screams through the air.

Your bandana seems to be caught in some unseen wind, worn cloth caressing your neck. Your instincts flare for some reason, urging your heart rate to spike and breath to quicken. There, in your peripheral—

The Factory Chief lands next to you, silent and deadly as the kunai in his grasp. But his form is all wrong; he’s not going to slash or stab at you, so what is he—?

His leg immediately kicks out—right into the side of your bad knee.

A scream catches in your throat. You plummet to the floor, your joint having been forced to finally cave in on itself. Knowing how feeble you probably look but being in enough pain to not really care, you curl up and grasp at the appendage, biting your lip. _Hurts_…!

“_Weak_,” the ninja hisses over you. The kunai in his grip flashes in the radiance from the overhead lights. “But if it makes my job easier...”

Through the pained tears caught in your eyes, you lie and watch because that’s all you can bring yourself to do, stunned with shock and agony as you are. But the blade doesn’t have a chance to drop.

A wooden fist crashes against the Factory Chief’s masked face before Geno bodily rams into the ninja. With a murderous look, he grasps the ninja’s bodysuit before hurling the boss backwards, away from your prone form. You catch a glimpse of his red eyes before he turns away, likely to finish his own fight.

With a shaky breath, you grit your teeth and survey the battlefield. You...you can’t afford to lie here like a target. You have to pick up the slack; can’t be a burden…!

Hating how every heartbeat causes a lancing pain to stab through your utterly spent knee, you release it and attempt to crawl away. You know it’d be both futile and a waste of time to even attempt getting back on your legs, but shame can wait; gotta put as much distance between yourself and the potential dangers _now_.

As if things couldn’t have gotten worse, a familiar sound echoes about the chamber. Hauntingly, it bears a striking resemblance to a railgun preparing to let loose.

...the Breaker Beam.

It plays out in what feels like slow-motion: you look up from the floor, only to see Gunyolk’s central turret aimed directly at you. And your body, already trembling from exhaustion and pain, nearly crumples in on itself in shock. Fear is soon to take its place, rooting itself deep and freezing you to the cold, hard ground. Finally, a sort of recalcitrant acceptance takes its place; the attack probably won’t kill you, but it will knock you out with the additional pain it’ll inflict.

If the others don’t have to waste their time tending to you, they could probably finish this fight that much faster.

So you watch with bated breath as the Factory Chief lands on top of the tank, pointing a kunai at you. His command is loud enough to be felt through the floor: “_Fire_!”

You blink, momentarily blinded by the light flashing inside the turret’s opening. Just when you hear the scream of the Breaker Beam and feel the faintest warmth from its incinerating heat, something _rams_ into you.

In your weakened state, you can only exhale as the air is forcefully expelled from your lungs. But the lingering ache in your rib is lost to the searing heat which grazes that side. Faintly, you can hear what sounds like something shattering.

The Breaker Beam fizzes out in short order, leaving you with dots dancing across your vision and a chorus of ringing left in your ears.

Prying yourself upright, you turn only to see something that makes your heart nearly stop: Shyster is there, but he remains face-down, white fragments scattered around his still form. He does not move, even when you reach a shaking hand to touch him. He remains unresponsive. Unmoving.

He at least groans or shifts if he’s been knocked out. You try again; still nothing.

_You_ were supposed to take that hit because you were weak enough to allow it to happen in the first place. _You_ were the one who, for all intents and purposes, had played meat-shield many, many times beforehand. _You_ already felt the Breaker Beam once before; you knew what you were getting into, even if Gunyolk is marginally stronger than the Axem Rangers and their ship.

It’s a sort of cruel irony to see Shyster doing the very thing he’s been pestering you about ever since Yaridovich.

And despite how he claims to have a natural resistance to heat, the fact he remains unmoving is another insult to injury. You let him get hurt because you were too tired to even try getting out of the way. He was right; you didn’t take care of yourself so he paid the price.

You attempt to shake his small form again. He doesn’t move, even when your fingers dig into his plush robes.

“..._fuck_,” you utter.

You barely register the pink fabric of Toadstool’s dress as she hurriedly drops to Shyster’s side, shielding him from view. A pair of hands worm their way around your shoulders, dragging you back. Voices are murky, lost to the heartbeat pounding in your head.

Then you hear it; someone is _laughing_.

You hone in on the Factory Chief, who remains standing upon the tank. His arms are crossed but his shoulders shake in mirth. “Seems like I need to calibrate Gunyolk’s aim, but it did hit _a_ mark,” he says airily. Then he scoffs, idly twirling a kunai. “Though I wonder _why_ Smithy would think to design anything with the influence of Shy Guys in mind; weak, the lot of them.”

He gestures to where the princess is still leaning down, healing Shyster, and you see red.

Furthering your anger, the ninja adds, “To think if you hadn’t hesitated earlier, I wouldn’t have been a problem for your group. I guess I gave you too much credit. A coward, through and through.”

You pry yourself free from the arms around you, shoving the body away and clamoring up to your feet. You stagger forward, like a puppet guided by its own hatred, and bellow, “_SHUT UP_!”

Already in tune with your rapidly escalating emotions, your magic winds around your hand. You fling the appendage out and with a snap of your fingers, cast a poorly-controlled yet immensely powerful Water Blast.

A pained grunt sounds from the cloud of boiling steam, but you don’t care. You rear back and repeat the process, casting another Water Blast with another snap. Even if you can longer hear the ninja making his pain known, you hurl as many explosions as you can at Gunyolk; you can feel the swaths of heat from your spells all the way from where you are. And knowing from your fiasco earlier, the Factory Chief is made of metal; you could probably melt him with your Water Blasts.

Amidst the clouds billowing forth and the clamorous sounds of Gunyolk’s machinery, something likewise erupts from the steam.

You barely feel the slightest sting as the kunai whips past your cheek. The heat that begins to pool from the wound is nothing to the anger, hot and festering, urging you on. The ninja is still alive.

As if to solidify the statement, the smoke parts briefly as the Factory Chief bursts forth. His speed is too overwhelming for you to circumvent, so you concentrate on your own strengths. Where he has speed, you have overwhelming force.

You wait for the ninja to close the distance. He does so in the blink of an eye, shoulders taut before lashing out. Your body jarrs harshly as your knee gives out just a bit, but it’s enough to prevent the kunai from sinking into your flesh. Instead, it merely makes the previous injury in your side a bit worse; the resultant gush of warmth attests to that.

But now he’s too close to avoid your attack. So you reach out and grasp his face in your palm. The Water Blast awaiting its release is hot enough that you can feel your own skin begin to burn.

While you can’t see the ninja’s face, you can feel how it subtly shifts amongst his pained hisses; it’s melting. With one last push, you shove him away with a point-blank Water Blast. The resultant force blows you backwards before a pair of arms wraps around you, keeping you upright. Your eyes never leave the black body thrown back against Gunyolk, whose chassis appears deformed in some places, large pieces missing in others.

Despite how tunneled your vision is growing and the annoying ringing between your ears blares nonstop, a voice makes itself known. “Your magic—you’re going to collapse at this rate,” Geno breathes behind you. “You’ve done enough. Please, calm down—you’re _injured_—”

You ignore him in favor of raising your arm, fingers stiff. With another snap, you cast another Water Blast, engulfing the still-moving frame of the Factory Chief. And you repeat the motion again and again, until you can’t see either boss amongst the steam.

It’s only when the tiniest pressure makes itself known against your thigh that you pause.

You glance down and are rewarded with Shyster, whole and fine, save for the arm he holds over half of his mask. Rather, where half of his mask would be if it wasn’t lying in pieces across the floor.

“Hey,” his voice, normally deadpan, is strangely hesitant. “I-I’m okay, now. You can stop.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Like the tide ebbing, what cinders remain of you magic die pitifully, leaving you with hardly any stamina to continue standing. Your knee gives out and you collapse through the wooden arms at your shoulders. Before you can impact the floor, Shyster is there, catching you with a single arm and a huff.

Your vision is spinning too much to focus on him, but his tone is remarkably lighter when he remarks, “See? I’m a lot tougher than I look. Honestly, I’m debating whether or not to be offended you took that guy’s words so seriously.”

You blink owlishly. A small smile pulls your lips. “...yuh-yeah,” you admit breathlessly. “S...sorry…”

A tiny piece of his mask breaks free, but Shyster seems happy enough with the response, given the relieved sigh that follows.

“Welp,” Bowser interrupts above, “this is real touching and all, but what about the living tank and ninja guy over there? Are they still—”

Before he can finish, a massive explosion rocks the room. Even if you’re so out of it you can’t really tell up from down, you’re pretty sure that just signaled the end of the fight. _Good riddance_.

“...guess that answers my question,” Bowser grunts.

Soon enough, your vision is filled with the warm tones of the princess’s dress. She tends to you as best she can, given the arduous battle you just wrapped up due to a massive tantrum on your part. Well, least you blew off some steam, _ha ha_.

“...’ey,” you grumble from the floor. Shyster, still holding a hand over a half of his face, perks up. “I g-got one more of, of those beans. Could you…?”

Once you’ve eaten the last rainbow bean - thank you, Shy Away - and your magic gradually returns, you can finally focus again. Sure enough, neither Gunyolk nor the Factory Chief are anywhere to be seen. Furthering the finality of it is the doorway left behind; it was sealed shut earlier but is now open for further investigation.

“I think that’s where we gotta go next,” Mallow says, noticing your trail of sight. He hovers around Mario, the cloud of HP Rain soothing the man’s wounds away while Toadstool busies herself with Bowser and Geno.

Everyone seems to reach the unanimous decision to take a quick breather. Healed but still gathering your stamina, your left sitting on the ground. You can’t help but glare at your stupid knee, swollen and throbbing in time with your heart.

“Hey Sharkbait?” You glance up at Mallow who plops down next to you. “Can—can I try something? For your knee, I mean.”

“Knock yourself out.”

The prince gathers what feels like ice magic before halting the progression of Snowy. Like you did back in the basement of Nimbus Castle, he uses a fraction of the magic to instead press against your joint. You shiver; feels like a cold pack.

“It’s somethin’ my grandpa used to do for me,” he explains. “Thinking I was a tadpole who couldn’t jump...well, I tried jumping lots when I was younger. Tripped a lot, though, so he’d use his magic to make it hurt less.”

You can’t help but quirk a brow. Frogfucius had ice magic…? Huh.

“Thanks a lot,” you say, much to the Nimbian’s joy. “It feels really good.”

As you sit alongside Mallow and Shyster, who thankfully had a replacement mask stowed away in his backpack, you can’t help but play the victim when Bowser brings up your episode. “Really, never woulda thought some shrimp like you could pull out all the stops like that, _gwar har har_! Finishing our fight for us; if I wasn’t so impressed, I’d be upset. Gotta show off for Toadstool, after all!”

Toadstool just _tchs_. Turning to your pouting face, she quickly smiles. “Don’t listen to him; _I_ thought what you did was brilliant! Maybe a bit scary, but you did it because that guy insulted you and Shyster.” She sighs almost dreamily. “It’s strangely adorable, honestly.”

Mario and Mallow are both quick to agree that you flinging around Water Blasts was unnerving, especially for the former. “I don’t think I’ve seen Mario get mad enough for his fire magic to do somethin’ like that,” Mallow supplies. He shivers. “Seeing that Gunyolk and Factory Chief combined was…”

You can’t help but gawk a bit, much to Shyster’s amusement. “Yeah; at the end, your magic basically melted the two into a synonymous hunk of junk. Impressive if not scary.” He pats your arm. “Good thing we’re buddies.”

The other exchange amused glances, Geno even going so far as to smirk and shake his head. “I think I finally understand why Johnny took you under his, er, fin,” the doll supplies, and the others nod in tandem.

You snort and then laugh, unable to help yourself.

The interlude is brief, but it’s more than enough to lift your spirits once more. You’re going to sorely need this, considering what’s to come. And what with how tough things have been this far...welp.

But for now, rest and relaxation time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Here's a longish chapter (~10.7k words) to keep you entertained before the finale. 
> 
> Yup, that's right; the next chapter will (probably) be the last one! At least, it'll be the last one in terms of main story; I _do_ plan on writing an epilogue, but I've been busy with the next chapter, sooo...yeah. Prepare for a pretty long finale, lol.
> 
> With that out of the way, I hope you enjoyed!


	24. A Sea of Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale; no Lazy Shell(s) required.

Y’know, for being a specter of some sort who carries the same frigid cold that _would_ have killed you had you not suffocated, it’s a shame your own chill can’t soothe your injuries. Sure, not to say you haven’t tried time and time again, but your efforts could never compare to Mallow’s ice magic weaving through his palms and easing away your knee’s swelling. And hey; you’re already freezing cold, so what’s a little more?

...okay, so maybe your knee is as good as it’s gonna get, and maybe, _maybe_ you’re stalling because you’re still a coward. Because at the end of the day, you know enough about _Super Mario RPG_ and your gut instincts to realize the next room is the only thing between you and Smithy.

Despite coming this far, you’re scared. No; you’re _terrified_.

The worst part about it is that you’re not so scared of dying to bullets or even dying in an otherwise brutal manner. If anything, if you do biff it during the boss fight, well, you had a good run. That and you won’t be dying alone again; anything is better than nothing for you.

But…

You glance over at Shyster, who slowly moved over to idly chat with Bowser. You can’t help the wavering grin as you take in how at ease the little Shy Guy is whilst encompassed in the Koopa king’s shadows. You hear his watery voice but can’t make out the words, but they’re funny enough to cause Bowser to smirk and belt out a laugh or two.

...you’re glad he’ll have someone once you’re gone, even if it's not Stitches or Stripes. Even you aren’t so selfish that you can’t condone him reaching out to others, what with him knowing you don’t have much time left here.

“Are ya feelin’ a bit better now, Sharkbait?”

You shift so you’re smiling down at Mallow. “Yup! All thanks to you, lil’ guy. Really; thanks for the help.”

You rotate your knee a bit, enjoying the pleasant numbness tingling away in the joint. But the motions don’t cause any nerves to alight in pain so you figure it’s as good as it’s gonna get.

“It’s no problem at all. I’m just glad I could help!” the prince chirps, and you can’t help but pat his small tuft of pink affectionately.

You’re grateful even after the Nimbian hops up to his feet, which shortly carry him over to where Mario, Geno, and Toadstool are resting. You’re left alone, but you don’t want to begrudge the small prince’s last moments alongside the spirit, so you take the moment to shift through your yellow bag. Hmm...there’s a Rock Candy - since when did you have one of those? - and a Red Essence. Not much in the way of healing items, save for one Kerokero Cola.

You sigh. _Guess this is gonna be another ‘go big or go home’ kinda fight, huh_.

You can feel the creases embed themselves into your forehead as you take the time to look over your things once more. As always, your fingers find themselves at the various accessories you have tucked away beneath the folds of your bandana. The worn fabric is pleasant to rub, just like the worn canvas of your bag.

...reminiscing again, are we…

Johnny said ‘don’t dwell,’ but now that a lull has introduced itself, what else can you do? What else is there to do but be alone with your thoughts, which may or may not be the best company but mostly likely aren’t?

Then again, it’s not like anything’s actively preventing you from getting up and plopping down amongst the others. Maybe you’re just a little bit bitter that the others seem to leave you to your devices like this. Still, at the same time, you can’t deny it makes sense, given you’re a ghost who’s bound to disappear in short order.

You shake your head. Dying again doesn’t bother you, but leaving behind everything you're gained since coming here, including the possibilities, is...it’s…

It’s detestable, plain and simple. But at the very least you can comfort yourself with the memories you’ve made thus far. It’ll be enough. It _has_ to be enough. Not like you have much time left to make any more fond memories, or memories that don’t revolve around just trying to survive in a dang _Mario_ game. But, like, there’s guns and the main villains _are_ living weapons, but _still_. C’mon.

Even so, the clock is ticking. The worst part is that you don’t even know when it’ll stop. Maybe it’s the waiting that’s gonna kill you before Smithy or the Grand Stars get the chance.

A shadow falls over your hunched frame. You glance up to see Geno offering you a half-smile. “Mind if I take a seat?”

You glance back down and catch a glimpse of Shyster beyond the doll’s legs. His mask betrays nothing, but he’s staring straight at you. He tilts his head slightly; a nod. Then he turns around and goes right back to chatting with Bowser.

You wrinkle your nose. Smug jerk; always knows when _someone_ wants to have a chat.

“Sure,” you say, even scooting over a bit and patting the cold metal floor next to you. “I mean—go ahead.”

Geno rolls his eyes but doesn’t hesitate to plant his wooden butt down with a loud _bang_. He grimaces and you can’t help but snort a bit, since it’s been a while seeing him not have as much decorum as usual. You even make a joke about how you didn’t get crushed to death under his heavy frame back with Dodo, to which he crosses his arms and retorts that you’re probably indestructible, given everything that’s happened to you thus far.

You laugh again, but it’s a quiet thing. A facade. “Obviously not,” you whisper, even going so far as to turn away from the others. Shrugging, you can’t help the bitterness that leaks into your next words. “Y’know, since I’m already dead and all.”

His cape is heavy enough to have a distinct noise when it shifts. “...I—”

You _pssh_. “Don’t; there’s nothing to apologize for. What’s done is done, y’know…? It’s just…” You sigh, low and drawn. Looking to Geno’s guilty expression, you wager to ask, “Hey...do you know when I—when…?”

Geno’s downtrodden look shuts you up with another sigh. “...figures. It’d be too easy.”

A hand presses against your shoulder. His tone is noticeably lighter when he amends, “Once I rekindle my connection with the Star Road, I’m sure I’ll be able to tell you for certain. But, until then...I wouldn’t worry too much. The Grand Stars wouldn’t take you away without abiding by your wish in a way they see fit.”

At that, both of you drift over to glance at where Shyster is currently snickering over something Bowser said—about Mario, given how the Koopa is jabbing a claw at the portly man, much to the latter’s irked expression.

Now it’s Geno’s turn to sigh. “I understand, I think,” he begins, grabbing a loose string from his cape before abruptly snapping it off. “I’m trying to hide it, but the truth is that I’m terrified of—of going back. And we don’t need that sort of uncertainty right now, especially since we’re so close to facing Smithy.”

You sigh. “...I get it. Trust me; right before you sat down I was pretty much thinking the same thing. Like, _I get it_; we need to save the world and Star Road, but...I dunno, the personal cost of doing so for us is...it’s _hard_. And—”

You swallow, as if doing so will prevent your confession from reaching the open air. But you can’t afford to hold anything back—it’s now or never. And knowing that Geno is the only other person here to understand your circumstances because you share them...it’s enough; enough to gather what little remnants of courage your facade has conjured up.

“—I’m not brave or selfless; I know that. I’m still the same coward I was at the beginning of all this. But…” You lick your lips, thumb caught in the familiar fabric at your throat. “...I think it’s okay. To be scared, I-I mean. I think that’s what Johnny taught me: ‘ain’t nothing worse than a link who doesn’t participate in the chain at all.’ Now, it’s like—I get it. I’m still a coward, but alongside the others…”

You tilt your head over at everyone else. Geno follows the motion and something unspoken emotion seems to alight in his eyes. Ever so slightly, he nods.

_Despite everything, you’re here_.

You stare off into the factory’s chamber, the routine noises of machinery easing your nerves. “It’s not so bad since I’m not alone anymore. Sure, we’re basically a ragtag bunch of misfits trying to put an end to some foreign wannabe dictator, but adversity brought us together—in more ways than one, y’know?”

Geno hums under his breath. “I see where you’re coming from, and honestly? I feel the same. Seems like it was only yesterday we went to Star Hill and discussed our inevitable fates. I just…never anticipated making enough connections down here that would also make me _not_ want to return to Star Road. But you…”

You still don’t like seeing shame paint the doll’s features. You huff and, tone lighthearted, you quip, “Yeah, yeah; I was meant to be a martyr from the beginning. But lookit the bright side: instead of dying alone and unloved, this time I get to be happy. Like, I’m helping to save a couple of worlds; ‘s not everyday you can put that on a resume.”

“...but you’re still scared of the end.”

You snort unattractively. “Of course I am. And despite all the awful decisions I’ve made and will probably make in the final fight, I’m smart enough to know there’s no point in running from the inevitable. So then comes the question: would I rather spend my last moments here stewing in my own misery? Or do I wanna go out in a blaze of glory? Wait; no. More like if, if I wanna enjoy what’s left of my time here, y’know…?”

You roll your eyes when Geno’s surprise melts away into incredulousness. He even goes so far as to cough-laugh into a fist before shaking his head. “You’re taking this a lot better than I am.”

Offering him an offended glare, you opt to tell him the truth. “Geno, if you chicken out _now_, you can bet your ass I’ll be right behind you. Which brings me to another thing Johnny said—”

“For a ruthless pirate, he seems to be full of insightful words.”

“—you have no idea,” you admit. “Still, he told me that I have the power to protect the ones close to me. That even if I can’t stay, he knew that I could protect the world for my friends. I _mean it_ when I say I can be happy with that; the knowledge I helped my friends. I’ll have repaid everything Shyster’s done for me. I’ll also be protecting his future and, by proxy, him.”

Geno looks at the Shy Guy, still chatting away with the king of Koopas. “...he’s made everything worth it for you, right?”

Your answer is immediate. “Yup. Without a doubt. Not to say there aren’t plenty of others, but...he’s my first friend. So.”

The doll appears conflicted for a brief moment. When you question him whether he also has something he wants to protect, including their future, he nods. “There’s many, like with you. Of course there’s Mario, Mallow, Princess Toadstool, Bowser...but there are many more. Little Gaz who always believed in me, even Dyna and Mite who cheered us on.”

Geno’s mouth upturns in a small smile. His red eyes seem to glimmer as he relents, “Even if we got off on the wrong foot and it took me far too long to...to understand, you’re someone who’s made it worth it too. Not to mention the rather large dose of reality you brought to me, but I’m sure that’s heavily apparent.”

You face shifts from genuine surprise to stupid grin so fast you’re sure your cheeks would have whiplash if it were possible. “Aww, shucks. So is this the part where you admit you bullied me in the beginning, ooor…?”

The spirit rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. With a more somber tone - _back to it, huh_? - he admits, “I’m not going to use my status as a spirit to excuse my actions. If anything, I can’t help but wonder if that was the mindset of the Grand Stars when they…”

He trails off and you fill the blanks with another sigh. “Look, Geno; it doesn’t matter what the Grand Stars did. What matters is that I’m here _now_. What’s done is done; can’t undo shit at this point. Just gotta make the best out of it, yeah? That applies to you too, by the way.”

While a bit disgruntled as your cussing, the doll eventually nods.

After a moment, his face seems to crumble in on itself. His wooden body creaks as he hunches in on himself. Finally, he sighs, low and drawn, shaking his head. “...I understand; I do, really, especially since the both of us are lucky in one regard, but...on the other hand, these good times won’t last for us either.

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” Geno whispers so quietly you have to lean toward him to hear, “is that I also understand why you believed yourself to be selfish. For—for _this_.” He gestures around him and you nod.

You watch the doll struggle some more, rubbing angrily at his cap. His orange curls bob up and down cutely, at odds with the genuine pain shown in his scarlet eyes. He closes them just as he sighs once more.

“Is it really so selfish of me to want to be remembered…? Not as a hero, or even a spirit, but as _me_?”

Geno’s fists clench so tightly you can hear the wood of his palms scrape against his fingers. His eyes reopen, but there’s still nothing but shame and guilt to be found.

Wordlessly, you scoot closer to him and, after a brief hesitation, place a hand on his back.

It’s after a few moments of quiet contemplation that you finally can’t hold in your giggles. Sure, laughing is a pretty damn offensive action but it’s one you’re grown accustomed to whenever you’re nervous.

Once they die down enough and you sputter a few apologies, you hurry to explain. “It’s just—I was thinking about the same exact thing earlier. S-so, uh, yeah.”

Your anxiety seems to recede as soon as Geno’s frown turns upside down. “You did mention the two of us are similar.”

“True, but I never thought it’d be to this extent,” you pat his back a few more times before retracting it. “Regardless, I...look, there’s a lot I want to say. About you and, by association, me being selfish.”

The spirit gives you his undivided attention. “Considering you’re probably better at processing all these difficult emotions since you’ve had them your entire existence, I’m all ears. Could probably learn something, too.”

“...dude. _Dude_, you have _no_ idea how wrong you are. But lemme try.”

So you do what you do best: ramble. You don’t really recite everything you told Shyster the other day, but you do tell him that you’re absolutely terrified of being forgotten. How you fooled even yourself into believing you’d be fine dying with nothing worthwhile to note, but after traveling alongside everyone else you changed your mind along the way. Because, at the end of the day, you’re far happier than you ever were - or remember being - than you were back ho—in your world.

You do relent that while you had wanted to request Shyster not forget you - not forget the you who was allowed to _live_ here as opposed to the you who died back on your beach - you didn’t go through with it.

“Figured it’d be too much a burden to outright ask,” you admit with a shrug. “Just...seemed too selfish, even for me. I don’t want it to be an obligation; being remembered should be a gift. Because, like, if anyone remembers me after I’m gone, then that means I’m _worth_ that time spent reminiscing. Just like everyone I reminisce about: Mr. Shroomby, Stitches, Stripes, Johnny…”

You shake your head. “I know he told me to not dwell, but I’m a sentimental person at heart. And I guess that’s why I’ve always seen myself as this weak, pathetic person. I mean, it’s not like I still don’t, but—”

Geno’s face contorts in frustration but you beat him to the punch. “—it’s not as bad. Sure, it took being granted magic powers to circumvent some of my cowardice, but like I told Shyster: I’d rather be alone than be a burden. And the same goes for _this_.”

Unbidden, you memories flit the first few times you encountered the star spirit. How you had run away, cursing the obligations held in his gaze.

Looking at him, Geno seems to remember those times, too. His eyes flicker in understanding.

The doll stares at you for a long time. He finally shifts with a tired smile on his face. “I think I get it. I want my existence here to _mean_ something; I don’t want to be the low-ranking spirit from Star Road, I want to be _Geno_. Geno, who made so many meaningful connections despite coming here only to fulfill my duty; Geno, who learned what it’s like to live like the surface-dwellers do; Geno, who’s friends with everyone here, right now.”

His smile wavers slightly. “...but I’m also Geno, the spirit who learned the hard way that a heart’s a heavy burden. I don’t think I ever understood pain and sorrow until I came down here, but…”

He lifts his head, looks out over the others, still caught in their own worlds. But they’re laughing, smiling, _hopeful_.

Geno looks so tired and so alive all at once. “I suppose it’s worth it; living, I mean. I don’t regret coming down here at all.”

Your grin, wide and probably feral-looking. “That’s the spirit! _Ha ha_—get it? _Get it_...? _Pfft_…!”

Once Geno’s done rolling his eyes at your antics, you fall right back into somber mode. As genuinely as you can, you say, “Thanks, though. For, for understanding, I guess. Not like, ‘thanks for suffering with me so I’m not alone,’ more like, ‘thanks for just being there for me.’ ...but I won’t deny there’s a bit of the former in there too.”

The doll levels a nearly fond stare at you before his face goes right back to unimpressed. “Duly noted.”

And the two of you can’t hold the serious tone, breaking out into laughs that Shyster would undoubtedly label as dorky. Given how similar you and Geno are, and you damn well knowing you’re a prime example of a dork, well. Y’know what they say; if the shoe fits…

You eventually butt heads with Geno, too lost in your giggling to really care about how close you’ve gotten or the lingering ache from his wooden cranium. You’re just enjoying the fact you’re alive, mostly. You think Geno’s doing the same.

It’s a wondrous feeling to have such a weight being lifted from you. Like he said, a heart’s a heavy burden. Companionship certainly makes it lighter, at least for you and him. And for you, that’s more than enough.

You’re not alone anymore. You _won’t_ be alone anymore.

After an interlude when the two of you catch your breath, Geno grins at you. “Thanks. I...I think I needed that.”

You wave a hand. “No problem—hey, actually…” You balk a bit, biting your lip. It’s not like you can outright tell him that he’s beloved because then that gets into the whole fourth-wall stuff, which you really don’t wanna do. Even so, you spit out, “I honestly don’t think you need to worry about being forgotten. I’m 99.99% sure you’re more than worth it.”

Sure, not like anyone really knows Geno; hell, you sure didn’t at first. He wants to be remembered as himself, not as the character you’ve built up knowing without understanding. But at least you’re trying now.

Geno smiles. “...I don’t think you have to worry about anything either, then. We’re pretty similar, right?”

You can only bring yourself to gape like a fish out of water. “I...I guess so, huh…” You snort. “Never thought of it like that.”

Another random thought demands your attention and you glance over at Geno. He returns your stare with one of his own, then confusion when you muster the courage to mutter, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“...I’m a bit hesitant considering it’s you, but fine,” he relents. “What is it?”

“What’s your name? Y’know, your original name. Kinda like how I go by Sharkbait now and you’re obviously Geno, but. I dunno, I’ve always been a bit curious since you say it’s hard to pronounce…” You catch yourself, shaking your head and amending, “You know what? Never mind; that’s totally a jerk move, what with what we just talked about—”

“It’s fine.” Geno smiles. “Easy enough to satisfy your curiosity, I suppose. My original name is—”

And a sound not unlike twinkling bells ring out, soft and beautiful. It’s strangely similar to the noises those flowers at Star Hill make upon relenting their wishes.

He openly grins in the face of your surprise. “Not how you envisioned our language sounding, is it?”

You blink. “Uh, yeah. No. It’s a pleasant surprise for sure. It’s, um, very...pretty…your name, I mean.”

And Geno, the ass, has the nerve to laugh as soon as you stutter and stumble over excuses that you meant that as a compliment for his language and not him. Your face is burning and you end up trying to save face by threatening to not tell him your name, to which he readily replies that he can ask once he returns to Star Road. You settle with mild disgruntlement; not like you’ll be around to care. Plus he’ll learn about your foreknowledge; two birds with one stone. And if he does, then that means you're worth remembering, right? It’s fine; better than fine.

You and Geno share one, last look. It’s one of mutual understanding, and it serves to calm the unease nicely.

“Welp,” you break the silence, “my butt’s numb and this floor’s cold. I think we’re pretty much done here. How about you?”

Geno rolls his eyes yet again at your antics but agrees.

“Good.” You pat his back harshly and he sputters a bit, side-eyeing your comically wide grin. “Now, back to being a coward; the faster we go face down Smithy, the less I’ll have to mull over my inevitable demise. Unless I _do_ go out in a blaze of glory fighting him, but eh. Only time will tell.”

“No point in delaying the inevitable,” is all the spirit replies, but his tone is lax and that calms the tension roiling beneath your skin.

Thankfully, Geno helps you back onto semi-shaky legs. Your knee is doing a lot better than it was earlier, but you can tell it’ll be a hassle to dodge if not outright detrimental. Here’s to hoping Smithy doesn’t cast Sledge too much…

“Are we ready to move on?”

Everyone glances to Shyster, who is looking to you for an answer. Another smile pulls at your lips; observant little guy. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Shyster nods and hops to his feet, dusting off his robe after a beat. “If you’re sure, then—actually, before all that, do you have any information on Smithy? Might be useful since he’s, y’know, the head honcho. The guy we’ve been meaning to get at since forever. Y’know, that guy.”

You balk a bit. “...I never said anything about him?”

The others exchange minor looks of confusion before Mallow pipes up, “Um, maybe you said something a while ago, but we could use a refresher! If you don’t mind, that is.”

Wordlessly, you use Geno as a support when you sit back down again. In the face of the other’s confusion, you pat the ground, beckoning them to take a seat.

“This’ll take a bit, since I actually know a bunch of stuff about Smithy. And, uh, there’s a lot to discuss, so. Yeah.”

“...of course it can never be easy,” Shyster quips, tone toeing the line between annoyance and amusement. Gracelessly, he plops back down on the cold floor. Everyone else soon follows, attentive and waiting for you to do your thing.

Licking your lips, you begin. “Okay, so, for starters, there’s two main phases…”

*** * * * * * ***

You exchange looks with the others, trepidation painting all of your features. With shared nods and confidence, whether feigned or otherwise, you step further into the room.

Just like you explained, the final room of Smithy’s factory is a large chamber filled with rows of conveyor belts and three distinct pipes. Grappling hooks hang from the ceiling, and various switches for their control are embedding in massive panels several feet away. The rumbling machinery fills the quiet as lines of Drill Bits flowing from the center pipe drift down on either side of your group, carried by the belts.

“Looks like this is it,” Shyster says.

Geno hums under his breath. “I’m assuming this is where the production line begins. And if that’s true, then our final adversary is waiting just down that pipe.”

The spirit crosses his arms with a resolute expression. “The last Star Piece is in Smithy’s hands. We need to retrieve it—no matter what.”

“I dunno about you chumps,” Bowser chimes in, “but I’ve been under the impression we were always gonna come to blows with this Smithy guy.”

“Says the guy who didn’t wanna come earlier,” Shyster quips, much to the Koopa’s embarrassment.

At Mario’s and Toadstool’s nods, you shrug. “I mean, pretty much. Not like he’s gonna leave this world unless it’s through force. Or in this case, death.”

Mallow has the decency to appear somewhat unsettled by how nonchalant you bring up potential murder. Fiddling with the golden clasp of his belt, the young prince asks, “It is really that simple? We just...beat him up and everything’ll go back to normal? There’s really no other way to settle this?”

Shyster scoffs. “We’ve killed a bunch of this guy’s lackeys before, so what’s stopping us from finishing the job? As it stands, we can’t afford to hesitate. You saw all the replicas of the generals back there; nearly an endless supply of them. If he released them to wreak havoc across the world, I doubt our merry band could really stand up to the challenge. Next best thing is to stop the problem at its source, this case being Smithy himself. Besides, when has violence failed us before?”

“He’s right.” Geno’s expression turns stormy as he stares at the passing Drill Bits. “This is it. This _has_ to be it. Our quest is almost over, and…when the time comes...”

The doll looks down at his worn boots, various emotions flitting across his face. He settles on a passive one, but it doesn’t mask his latent frustration. Then again, you know from personal experience that it’s near impossible to truly hide the distaste for uncontrollable circumstances.

He shakes his head. “Shyster’s right; we can’t afford to hesitate. Is everyone prepared?”

Even though everyone’s checked over their belongings and exchanged items more suited to specific people - you ended up receiving a couple Rock Candies from Toadstool and a Maple Syrup from Shyster - it can’t hurt to do so again. You’ve got a Kerokero Cola, and that’s pretty much all you need since you rely on Toadstool to heal any devastating injuries the cola can’t.

Once you’ve all prepped to the best of your abilities, Mario tips his cap back and offers the center pipe a glare before leaping into it. Bowser follows shortly after, then Toadstool with Mallow in tow.

Just as you’re about to climb up the belt yourself, a hand falls onto your shoulder.

You continue looking forward at Shyster, who merely glances back wordlessly. He tips his head down before turning his back on you and following behind the others.

The wooden fingers dig into your shoulder just a tad. “...are you scared?”

You muster a smile. “Of course I am.”

Geno returns it. “Me too. But...we’re in this together, right?”

He releases your shoulder in favor of holding out his hand. It hovers in the air between you for several seconds before you give him a grin of audacity. You slap your palm against his so much it stings, but you don’t care. You just give him a firm shake and he matches your energy.

“Together,” you repeat, and he nods.

And he leads you up the conveyor belt, hand still grasping onto your own. The physical connection serves well to root you, a nice contrast to how the two of you are already connected in so many other ways. Perhaps the most tangible part of that is the inevitably that you will be forced to leave behind your loved ones.

That’s just life, according to Shyster. And there’s some truth to that; you’d know first-hand, after all.

Even if you’ve always been uncomfortable in pipes, the enclosed space and darkness too similar to being submerged for too long...this time it’s bearable. You barely have the time to process it before you’re landing alongside Geno, after having cast a tiny Storm to slow your fall.

You fall into line alongside the rest of your comrades, who all wear tentatively angry expressions. And the object of their ire is none other than Smithy himself, hammering away at his workbench. Pinned to his metallic torso is the last Star Piece, its golden light dulled by the various cracks spider-webbing from the nails.

_Twang_! _Twang_! _Twang_!

The tension between you is so thick it’s reminiscent of the breathlessness caused by drowning.

The rhythmic falls of his hammer halts. Setting aside the instrument, Smithy hums and haws over the molten shape before him. It burns white-hot for another moment before you recognize it as yet another Drill Bit, which promptly hops away from the anvil to be processed and transported by the crane nearby. The sound of a pipe activating breaks the quiet once more.

The furnace over Smithy belts out another molten glob, but Smithy barely glances at it before raising his head to instead stare at all of you.

His red irises skim over every last one of you, resulting in a wave of lowered, battle-ready stances and furrowed expressions. Geno’s tight fists and the chains of Shyster’s mace rattling are the most apparent.

But Smithy simply nods and begins battering the glob, shaping it into yet another Drill Bit.

Before either Bowser, Geno, or Shyster can call out their frustration of being ignored so blatantly, Smithy is the one who finally decides to properly address the situation.

“So,” he begins, voice low and rumbling, “you’re the famous Mario? And I see you’ve brought your entourage. Did you enjoy your little tour of the factory? Meet your expectations?”

A little off-put by how nonchalant he is, everyone exchanges concerned glances.

Smithy continues crafting more Drill Bits as he continues blithely. “Though it’s a shame you destroyed so much of my work along the way, I can’t really blame you. Gotta let loose once in a while, eh? I’ve gotta admit, you’re an impressive bunch. Not many are capable of taking out my weapons so easily, much less besting the factory staff I’ve perfected over the years. So in that regard you have my thanks for showing that I can still improve my art.”

This is...Smithy was nowhere near this amicable in-game, right? He was a total douche, through and through.

“This is kinda odd…” Mallow dares to whisper, to which Toadstool and you nod.

Shaking his head and causing his massive mane of white hair to sway, Smithy grumbles under his breath as he appraises yet another Drill Bit. Either ignoring Mallow’s remark or having not heard it, he goes on. “As you can see, I appreciate power; imbue it into all my works and live by it myself. The strong thrive and the weak bow down. It’s a simple way to live, but it’s proven to be effective when it comes to accomplishing my goals.”

“And I take it those goals include hostile invasion and takeover?” Shyster finally quips, unable to help himself.

In the face of the others’ alarm, Smithy simply guffaws. Mallet still striking down, he grins, showing off his teeth which appear strangely similar to bullets, save for the distinct points. “_Bahaha_…! Seems the smallest among you has the most guts, eh? But he’s not wrong.

“See, my perception’s a simple thing to understand,” Smithy starts before he’s interrupted.

“And why should we listen to anything you have to say?” Geno spits with so much vitriol you can’t help but wince. “You think we traversed through this factory just to have a chat with _you_?”

Smithy shifts his attention to the spirit and, as a result of being beside him, you as well.

“Now there’s an interesting sight,” the boss muses, brushing his thick metal claws through his beard. “An emissary from the Star Road refusing to hear reason. Surely you realize why you were sent instead of, say, another of your kin. The answer’s the same for your friend there too.”

It abruptly feels like dejavu. You know what he’s referring to, but can’t seem to clearly remember the connotation…

Geno simply hunches forward aggressively, to which Smithy raises a single brow as if in challenge. Geno, thankfully, doesn’t take the bait. After all, trying something out during a would-be cutscene has always ended badly. But he does scathingly reply, “Don’t involve them.”

Smithy grins at you, skeevy and unnerving. It’s then that you realize that icy dread which has been steadily rising now has a distinct beginning. The way he’s looking at you, red eyes glinting in victory…

He knows.

You feel yourself pale considerably, even more so when Smithy announces, “It involves them whether or not you want to admit it. See, I know about your Star Road and the miracles it’s responsible for. Had to get it out of my way before I could make a base here, though I won’t deny I commanded Exor to destroy it out of personal feelings.

“Wishes and dreams; _bah_. How pathetic,” Smithy derides with a scowl. “_Real_ power comes from one’s own strength, be it will or otherwise. Hopes and dreams are only _distractions_. If you want to carve out your own path, best to do it with your own hands and not rely on some wishy-washy magic to do it for you. But I suppose that doesn’t really apply to the two of you.”

Aaand his grin returns, attention sweeping back to you. “Isn’t that right, little seer?”

…_ugh_, again with the ‘seer’ crap.

Smithy glances over to Shyster, who meets his eyes evenly. “I heard tall tales about your romp through the lands, besting my generals or aiding the local heroes so they could do the dirty work. You were a weak, pathetic little thing—or so I’ve heard. I found the concept laughable, because why would the spirits of your Star Road pluck some unsuspecting soul to do _their_ dirty work without properly equipping them, eh?”

Geno’s glare is frigid. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand enough,” Smithy easily replies. “I understand all worlds invariably come to conflict, be it within their own realms or if they bring the conflict into another. And conflict requires power; power to overcome adversaries. Your little Star Road proved to be the same, since what would a feeble human - no magic, no weapons, _nothing_ \- be able to accomplish by their lonesome? Did your Star Road simply hope that by answering a previously unanswered prayer that their chosen one would abide by their hidden mission?”

Smithy barks out a laugh, cruel and cold. Leveling another stare at you, he berates, “I’ve seen the world you hail from. It’s a beautiful realm, corrupted by malice and hatred. So many wars, and for what? Pettiness and selfishness seem to be the defining feature of humanity there, and it’s a wretched thing. Isn’t it, little seer?”

He hammers a few more times. “Even so, I know your kind. Like most of your kin, once you’ve been given the gift of power you use it without qualm if it means satisfying that selfish nature of yours. Am I wrong?”

And Smithy waits. It wasn’t rhetorical.

You can hear the unrest amongst the others, but your anxiety is through the roof so you don’t give them any attention. The best you manage in the face of the final boss’s gaze is a measly shrug.

“Well...I mean, you’re not wrong,” you start. “The world I come from sucks in a lot of ways; I know because I’ve experienced it. And yeah, the Star Road basically weaponized me by giving me magic; big whoop. Power is great, not gonna lie, but what’s important is _how_ that power is used.”

Growing more confident in yourself, you continue. “I know I’m selfish, possessive; _whatever_. I’m not the best person, but I can admit it. And honestly, it doesn’t really matter at this point. If anything, I’m using the Star Road’s power to fulfill _my_ desires. I guess it just so happens that it works out for the both of us, since I’m gonna use my power to protect my friends.”

Smithy looks distinctly unimpressed. “Do you really believe your allies are the source of your strength?”

“Of course!” Toadstool finally chirps alongside Mallow’s squeaked “Y-yeah!”, with even Mario grunting in affirmation. The others rally against his words and you—

“Nope,” you immediately reply.

Despite how the wind is immediately sapped from the sails of your group save for perhaps Bowser, you readily admit, “My friends are the source of my _happiness_, so of course I’m gonna protect them if it means protecting my happiness.

“So, in essence: I don’t care about this morality schtick you’ve got going on,” you state. “I’ve got the power to blow things up with my mind, and you better believe I’m going to use it to be selfish.”

A small laugh echoes about. You glance down at its origin, and Shyster returns your grin with a nod. “Truly someone after this thief’s heart, I tell ya. No wonder Johnny took a liking to you,” he jokes.

“What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

“More like a serial trouble-maker, but if it makes you feel better,” Shyster quips right back.

Another laugh interrupts your chat. Smithy rubs an eye before jovially commenting, “Now that’s something I can find worthwhile: strength of character, _har har_! But without your magic you’d be nothing but a fragile human…

“But if you were equipped with a weapon—” He slams his hammer down and crafts another Drill Bit. “—you’d be able to stand on your own feet; just like the soldiers who wage wars in your world, armed up to the teeth with artillery which wins the battles for them. And of those without weapons? Fodder. What a waste of potential, eh? And that’s what I intend to remedy.”

Another molten blob, more echoes of impact.

Smithy eyes your entire group. “Worlds war with one another; that is an inescapable fate. But if every world was given a fighting chance, filled with weapons, they’d be strong enough to stand even against any adversary. Leveling the playing field, as it were.”

Actual motives…? From Smithy, the dude who just randomly invades _Mario_-land with the intent to take it over because he’s clearly evil? That’s some lore you can get behind.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Geno states, voice clearly strained with his frustration. “As if you’d forcefully invade other worlds as a means to be some sort of charity.”

Smithy begins to laugh, low and menacing before he’s belting out roars.

“...not so naive anymore are you, spirit? It makes no difference to me, because we both know how this will end.” Smithy smirks at your party. “I takeover worlds simply because I have the strength to, and spreading the influence of my weapons is merely testament to that. And when those worlds resort to using my weapons to either defend themselves or instigate another...that is true beauty. But I won’t deny I enjoy it when I have to put in effort, because securing a victory with no resistance is meaningless. As I’ve said before, I appreciate a good show of power.”

_TWANG_…!

One last stroke and the Drill Bit is moved from the anvil to the pipe, but the furnace doesn’t produce another molten blob to shape.

Smithy leans back from the anvil before swinging his mallet against it, sending it skidding to the side with a clamor. The motion rocks the floor, jarring you so badly you have to take another step to steady yourself. Above you, the chains attached to the platform rattle.

“Now…” Smithy readies his hammer as he stares down at all of you with a gleeful sort of viciousness.

“_SHOW ME WHAT YOU’RE CAPABLE OF_!”

An immense surge of magic occupies your senses, the source of which is directly above—

You stumble backwards in an attempt to dodge the incoming Sledge, but trip over your dumb feet. That, or you fall because of your dumb knee, but the cause is lost to the wave of dread as you watch the spell take shape. Sure enough, a massive concrete pillar molds into existence before it drops, aiming to crush you and your allies. There’s no time to even crawl away—

A heavy _thud_ rings out, followed by a pained wheeze. Looking up shows you that Bowser somehow managed to halt the spell. Though his arms are clearly trembling with effort, the spell didn’t have the chance to crush everyone into dust.

Quickly rolling up and out of the way, you slink to the edge of the platform. It’s there where you find solace alongside Mallow, whose trusted Froggie Stick is held at the ready, likely to aid in his casting.

The battle quickly picks up once the magic materializing Sledge dissipates.

Toadstool heals Bowser as Mario and Geno begin their assault on Smithy, but your target is the Smelter. The golden monster doesn’t have the chance to spit out another hunk of molten metal for Smithy to make another enemy out of. Instead, both you and Mallow cast your strongest spells at it: Water Blast and Star Rain.

Although the furnace’s expression barely changes, you can tell your combined attack hurt it. Seems like it’s weak to magic.

Despite your best efforts, the thing survives to spit out a few chunks of metal for Smithy to quickly meld into Shypers. Even if you gave the best rundown of Smithy’s tactics to the others, you can’t help but shout, “Focus on the Shypers; they’ve got powerful magic!”

And indeed they do, since the colorless Shy Guys are quick to cast Sword Rain.

A strange magic coalesces above, both frightfully frigid and immensely hot, like ice and fire magic at once. Idly, King Nimbus’s words come to mind before you’re forced to cower in the face of the short swords which have formed above you. Their blades point down before they begin to fall, whistling through the air.

The screech of metal against metal echoes about the chamber, the swords impaling the metal floor with vigor. You manage to come out of it mostly unscatched, but your forearms now sport a variety of shallow cuts. A quick glance shows none of the others having been stabbed by the spell.

“Get the Smelter; I’ll take care of the Shypers,” you tell Mallow. The prince nods before immediately casting Shocker beneath the living furnace, and you focus your magic.

As soon as the melee fighters give enough of a berth to the three Shypers and Smithy, you immediately cast Waterspout. The winds your spell whips up are thankfully strong enough to entwine all of the metallic Shy Guys, who are left tumbling through the open air on their sword-like pogo sticks. Smithy, being as big as he is, remains rooted to the ground, but his beard is caught in the turbulent magic.

With an exhale and flourish, you command your spell to drop the Shypers onto Smithy. The metallic clones plummet and, with additional concentration, you force Waterspout to keep their mounts tilted down. It works at the cost of your stamina, but their swords remain pointed down even as they’re forced to collide into Smithy’s head.

Thankfully, the Shypers disintegrate upon contact, leaving you with a wounded Smithy and Smelter.

“Pretty good,” Smithy congratulates, left hand aimed at you. Even as far as you are, you can see the tips of fingers bearing holes much like the barrel of a gun. “Now let’s see how you’ll deal with _this_!”

A hail of bullets immediately spurt from his hand, and being the direct line of fire there’s nothing you can do. You grit your teeth as they spray into your torso, knocking the air out of your lungs and causing stars to erupt in your eyes. It takes a moment to realize that unlike real bullets, these ones didn’t pierce through you, but a cursory glance down your shirt shows dozens of bruised and bleeding welts. _Stings_…

Smithy seems to notice your latent surprise. “Didn’t even knock you down? Then how about round two—”

Before you can attempt to dodge, cover yourself, do _something_, a chain whizzes by Smithy. It wraps around the handle of his mallet before a harsh tug removes the weapon from his lax grasp.

Shyster continues his swinging motion, Smithy’s hammer in tow, before ramming it into the Smelter with a clashing echo. But he pivots around and he uses the momentum to swing the hammer back at its owner, using his mace as a makeshift grappling hook. The mallet swings down in an arc before it crashes down on Smithy’s left hand. The crunch of metal on metal rings out as the hammer is discarded, Shyster returning his mace to his side.

Close inspection shows that of four of Smithy’s fingers, two have been crushed to the point a bullet can’t pass through any longer. The Smelter’s mouth is similarly dented; maybe it’s enough to prevent more Shypers…?

Smithy _tchs_ under his breath. “Crafty little things you Shy Guys are. Docile countenances combined with sticky fingers makes for fine creations; Shysters, Shypers...Always considered weak because you fight with your wits. Underestimating you lot can have dire consequences...supposedly. Perhaps I was a bit too hasty in my thoughts.”

Shyster growls, eye holes slitted. “You sure talk a lot. I’m surprised that ego fits inside that massive head of yours. But whatever; makes it easier for me to _hit_—!”

And he swings his mace, spiked flail whistling through the air at Smithy’s skull. But the boss deflects the blow easily, to which Shyster responds by pivoting again to maintain momentum and successfully ram his mace into Smithy’s cheek.

Before Smithy can shoot Shyster with his hand, you cast a Storm beneath the boss. Your magic acts as a smokescreen, allowing Shyster to gain more distance and ready another blow.

Smithy growls as the spell dissipates. Then he bellows, “_Smelter_…!”

Unfortunately, the Smelter responds by spitting out a rather large chunk of molten metal. Despite Mallow casting a quick Snowy to render the substance useless for Smithy’s purposes, the spell has no effect. Stuff must be magically-imbued.

Smithy is quick to gather his mallet and reform the gleaming substance into five Shypers, which bound around him like a barrier.

“We need to get rid of that thing,” Bowser snarls, raking his claws into the golden surface of said Smelter.

“Try fire,” you reply, casting a Water Blast. “Pretty sure it’s magic defenses are weaker than its physical ones!”

The Koopa does so, and the Smelter can’t seem to stand up to the onslaught of your and Mallow’s spells, and his fire. Coupled with being misshapen, the thing can’t produce any more molten metal and therefore is defenseless. One last Shocker from Mallow causes it to explode in a cloud of smoke.

“All right!” Bowser grins, gnashing his fists together. “Now we can lay a beat-down to these chumps! _Gwar har har_!”

With the focus solely on Smithy and his personal entourage of Shypers, the fight is now more even.

Unfortunately, a couple of the Shypers manage to get off a few Sword Rains. The conjured blades whistle through the air as your party is forced to dodge the onslaught or be stabbed, probably repeatedly. While you fail to successfully do this - a few blades manage to pierce through a good chunk of your thigh and your side - none of your major vessels or organs were affected, so that’s a win in your book.

The last wave of swords dissipates, the magic fading. Mallow realigns his body - must be helpful to split your torso from your legs - and begins to power up a spell; you follow shortly thereafter.

But double unfortunately, the one who casts their spell first is Smithy. With a gravelly bellow, he yells, “Begone!” And promptly casts Meteor Swarm in your faces.

The magic swirls around the arena before coalescing into tiny stars, which then burst in an array of blinding flashes and scorching heat. Did you forget to mention the explosions? Yeah, there’re also explosions.

A pained hiss leaves your mouth, even more so when you realize you’ve been knocked to the ground again. As you pry yourself up on shaky legs, another immense gathering of magic commands your attention. You follow the pull and you barely have the time to spot Geno, whose wooden body begins to come apart at the seams, realigning into a cannon.

Noting his trajectory, you cast a few piddly Storms to cage the Shypers together. Once your spell leaves, Geno’s immediately takes its place: a condensed amalgamation of energy, bright and scarlet, bursts forth. As soon as the sphere rams into one of the Shypers, it halts and then expands, then _explodes_ in a wave of heat.

Man, no matter how many times you see Geno Flash, it’s certainly something.

All five Shypers go up in smoke, leaving your party to go seven-on-one against Smithy, especially since the Smelter isn’t around to help anymore.

But you halt your casting to instead watch as Mario, being the stud he is, goes mano-a-mano with the big boss himself. Their hammers clash in thunderous rings, wood against metal, and Mario is a blur of blue and red circling Smithy’s mostly stationary frame. Mario manages to land several powerful swings against Smithy’s face, but the show halts once Smithy blocks another downward swing. In the same moment, Smithy then swings his left hand and swats Mario away, sending the portly man skidding across the floor.

Bowser rams into Smithy in retaliation while Toadstool runs to heal her hero. Geno fires his star-shaped bullets in tandem with Shyster’s mace, and Mallow—

“Heya Sharkbait,” the prince greets with mild trepidation, eyeing the ongoing battle. He offers you a green cup with a frog-foot decorated label. “That last spell got me good, an’ it looks like you could use some healing yourself.”

Pointedly, Mallow glances at your thigh, which is still bleeding kinda profusely.

You thank him and take the Kerokero Cola, washing away the dryness in your mouth with its sweet taste. Kinda forgot that fighting makes you parched, especially in the heat of the moment.

The item manages to stitch together your bleeding wounds almost as well as if Toadstool herself had healed you. That’s good enough for you to immediately jump back into the fight with renewed vigor.

Considering there’s seven of you whaling on Smithy, it’s no surprise that he doesn’t seem to last much longer under the sheer onslaught aimed his way. Mallow manages to get one last Shocker in and you score a couple of hits with your Diamond Saws, not to mention the bombs hurled his way by one very explosive princess. But what really puts the nail in this part of the fight is the combination of Mario’s feet planting themselves into Smithy’s face at the same moment Geno and Bowser just straight up ram into the behemoth, actually causing him to fall over in a heap.

Plucking himself from the floor, Smithy growls. With a massive arc of his mallet, he sends the three flying off and levels a furious glare at them. His red eyes shift over every last one of you before he slams his hammer into the floor. You can feel the latent hatred through the vibrations clamoring up your legs and into your skull. The chains holding up the platform chatter amongst themselves at the force, too.

Despite the apparent threat of destroying said chains and plummeting you deeper into the factory, Smithy doesn’t seem fazed. Instead he continues throwing his temper tantrum, swinging his hammer down into the metal floor with a vengeance, eyes murderous.

“You…” Smithy seethes. “I’ll crush you all into _dust_.”

He accentuates the remark with another swing, sending ripples through you and the platform. The chains rattle some more, and from the sounds of it, some of the many bolts lining the platform begin to crack.

That’s...not good. Like, you get that the second phase has to start somewhere, even if you have to plunge further into the factory’s depths, but your magic’s already running a bit low and you’d rather not be forced to use a Waterspout, the most costly spell in your arsenal.

Another, noticeably smaller _thud_ sounds out, followed by two distinct echoes.

One of Bowyer’s arrows - er, you forgot what they’re called - lands to Smithy’s right. It’s doofy grin is still in place as it chastises, “Your head looks like a geyser, sheesh! Don’t take out your anger on our hard work!”

A Drill Bit to Smithy’s left echoes the sentiment. “Yeah! Try not to get so worked up. Think of your blood pressure!” ...Smithy has blood? That’s...disturbing.

A Shyster, a _real_ one, hops up and down on its pogo sword stick directly in front of Smithy. “What they said! We just built this platform yesterday, and the foundation’s very weak. So...how about you _stop shaking the floor_?!”

Smithy actually pauses, scarlet eyes blank. You recognize that sort of stare being of the ‘I’m so pissed I don’t know what to do’ variety. Which is to say: oh no.

Smithy breathes out, low and slow, before swinging his mallet once more. He drives it through all three of his creations, sending their chunks scattering through the air and over the floor. “How…_utterly annoying_!”

But his arc is too wide, and the head of his hammer slams into one of the chains holding up the platform. The force shatters one of the links, and that in turn leads to a domino effect where the entire foundation seems to collapse underfoot. The shaking begins as a quiet rumbling before crescendoing into a cacophony of metallic screeches. Like an earthquake, but worse.

As Smithy grunts various curses, you’re left trying to remain upright alongside the others. Even though you did tell them to expect yet another seemingly endless drop, you can only hope they don’t go splat permanently.

You knee quakes, shivers, then bends on its own accord. You trip backwards as a particularly harsh wave hits you, and the next think you know gravity is winning and you are losing.

You curse yourself for being so close to the edge, because the back of your head hits one of those bolts and sends your vision spiraling. Unable to clearly focus on what direction is up or down, you’re left lying on the floor even as it gives way under you. A chorus of yells ring out above the sounds of structural failure.

And then you’re falling into the bowels of Smithy’s factory, vision going darker by the second.

*** * * * * * ***

You bolt upright, gasp caught behind your teeth. “Wh—?”

You look up into Mario’s face, noting the ash smeared across his cheeks. But he doesn’t seem to mind your staring because he quickly sets you down, setting aside a red drinking cup. Pick-me-up, huh? Must’ve hit your head in the same spot as earlier with Earth Link.

Licking your lips, you shakily return the man’s grin and his mustache twitchs up. Mario then tips his cap and offers you a questioning thumbs-up. You return the gesture once you’ve fully woken up which, honestly, doesn’t take too long since Mario himself healed you. Speaking of which—

A quick sweep of your surroundings shows that yes, you’ve landed in the bowels of Smithy’s factory. Littering the floor and walls are massive replicas of Smithy’s true head, hairless with an equally empty pair of eyes and toothy mouth. Amongst the discarded heads is an array of cogs and pipes, rusted beyond recognition.

“_Oooough_…”

Everyone immediately hones in on the owner of that groan.

Smithy kneels - or whatever he does, since he doesn’t have legs - on the uneven ground, hunched in on himself. Through the blanket of his long beard, the last Star Piece nailed to his body sparkles faintly.

“My head…” he spits quietly, but in the silence it might as well be a roar for how loud it seems. “It’s pounding…”

Smithy releases another growl. Standing upright once more, his murderous red eyes scan over all of you. You return his glare evenly, finding courage in the shared finality of the situation. You, Shyster, Geno, Mallow, Mario, Toadstool, Bowser...you’re comrades in arms, readying yourselves to face down your last - and final - enemy.

In spite of how the seven of you came together, disregarding the rivalries between your allies or how they came to be, you stand alongside them and feel comfort in their presence. You’re not alone.

Your eyes flit to another pair of ruby eyes, twinkling with a sureness you hope your own encompass.

Geno nods imperceptibly. _We’re in this together_.

Smithy groans again, louder and filled with vitriol. “I’m burning; _seething_ with rage. Never have I been so wronged...To be pushed to the brink like this…yes, I believe it is time. Time to show you lot what I am truly capable of. Time to show you my real form, perfected over centuries...”

A quiet shaking begins, climbing through your bones only to settle alongside your erratic heartbeat. The unseeing heads surrounding you continue their unblinking watch.

“—time to show you my true power. You, who believe you can dismantle the empire I have built, forged with my own hands...I will teach you _respect_. I will right what you have wronged.”

A brilliant light bursts forth from Smithy, casting crowned shadows amongst the rubble scattered about. Cracks begin to spiderweb throughout his body, beginning at his head and spreading down to his hands. The cracks widen and so too does the light pouring out from them. His mallet remains unaffected by the abrupt lightshow.

Smithy laughs, hollow and cheerless. “Though I admit your efforts are admirable—”

He promptly bursts into an array of metallic shards. The Star Piece remains whole, even as the fragments of his body meld into his second form, moulding faster than any molten metal should have any right being.

A sea of light spills forth, blinding your party. Just as quickly the rays dissipate, leaving Smithy in his true form. Nearly double his size and face matching those making up the floor, his mouth does not move when he finishes his threat.

“—_I SHALL CRUSH YOU LIKE THE PUNY ANTS YOU ARE_!”

Smithy immediately uses his massive mallet to reshape his head into...a tank. Really, that one? The one that spams the OHKO move, Magnum…? _Damn it_.

“Try to not let his tank-head shoot you!” you cry, already limping back to put as much room between yourself and Smithy as possible.

Just like all other times you’ve been forced to fight, be it either for the sake of your survival or to protect the others, there are no cues to abide by, no turns to take. Blows are exchanged whenever possible. It’s a cycle of violence; a circle of carnage.

Bowser drills his claws into the metallic flesh of Smithy’s body before he’s knocked away with a brutal blow of Smithy’s hammer. Toadstool scurries to his side but is caught in the crossfire of Smithy’s bullets, firing from his healed left hand. She eventually manages to heal both herself and Bowser, but only because Mario jumped in to give her enough cover to do so.

Once Mario is likewise knocked aside with Smithy’s mallet, you release a Water Blast in his face. The resultant steam hides the incoming Star Rain Mallow summons, which nearly takes off Smithy’s left arm. The prince must be aiming for his body—if it’s anything like in-game, taking out the body will give you some wiggle room.

“Keep using magic; he’s weak to it right now!” you call over the sounds of gunfire.

As Smithy curses and hammers his arm back into place, a blazing circlet of orange rams into his side. The force is nearly enough to tip over the behemoth, and you give Geno some back-up and aim a couple of Diamond Saws along with another of his Geno Whirls.

When Smithy tips over just enough, Mallow tries again. Star Rain hits its mark, sending a slew of cracks throughout Smithy’s torso. Thankfully, none of your blows have hit the golden Star Piece, still nailed to Smithy’s chest.

Smithy groans again, arms falling to his side, apparently useless. _It worked_…!

With a snarl, Smithy retaliates by turning his tank-shaped face in Mallow’s direction. Before the Magnum has the chance to hit the prince, a spiked mace wraps around the nozzle and causes the spell to miss.

Shyster is then introduced to Magnum himself which sends his tiny body sprawling, clearly unconscious, and you retaliate with a Waterspout. Toadstool tends to the Shy Guy at the same moment a string of massive fireballs bounce into the turbulent winds of your spell, swallowing the fire and spitting their latent heat into Smithy’s face. Your and Mario’s spells seems to do a hefty amount of damage, since a few sheets of metal seem melted alongside the tank’s hull. Some bolts have also loosened, giving Smithy’s head a broken appearance.

“Little pests…!” With that, Smithy lifts his mallet to smash it against his own head once more.

He shapes his head into what looks like a sorcerer adorned in a metallic robe, clawed hands outstretched. You click your tongue in annoyance; the mage head. There goes your usefulness for this phase.

“Spread out; all his spells are wide-ranging,” you advise, even as you feel powerful magic swirling around Smithy. “He’s also weaker to physical attacks now!”

You barely have enough time to shield your face when Smithy casts Meteor Swarm. Hundreds of tiny stars surround everyone, illuminating the darkness before exploding in a shower of heat. You hiss, bare skin blistering from the blows.

Round and round it goes like a carousel of agony. Your body is littered with wounds; some bleed, others burn, all ache. The others seem to share your pain, but there’s still hope: Smithy’s metallic chassis is littered with fine cracks.

In between the, frankly, annoying spells - one of which just so happens to be Dark Star - you find yourself staggering around on the uneven ground, dodging the magic to the best of your ability. But your foot manages to get caught between two discarded heads, and in your attempt to free yourself you twist your already kaput knee.

Collapsing in a heap, you curse under your breath. Another immense gathering of magic overhead prompts your attention. You barely have the chance to glance up before the Spear Rain manifests hundreds of tridents. Though crude, their appearance brings to mind Johnny’s weapon of choice.

You try to make yourself as small as possible, but there’s only so much you can do, trapped by your own clumsiness as you are. So you clamp your jaws shut and grit your teeth, unable to look away as tridents rain down to impale.

Despite your best efforts, several pained gasps escape as the trident’s prongs sink into the flesh of your sides and pierce through the edges of your forearms. The solidified magic cleaves through your skin like a hot knife through butter, and it sears just as much. You almost think the white-hot pain is due to fire magic instead of your nerves going haywire.

The magic fades and the prongs that were embedded in you, stemming the blood, likewise fade. Warmth seeps out slowly yet surely, and you blink back tears.

“_Stars_.” Someone crouches low, shadow hovering over you—oh. It’s Geno.

Quickly and efficiently, he frees you by moving one of the Smithy heads before handing you a green drinking cup. You hate that you’re so out of it that he has to help guide the stupid thing to your lips, but it is what it is; you got got pretty good.

With you no longer bleeding out but still feeling the lingering echoes of pain, Geno helps you up. You survey the battlefield and watch Shyster land a particularly harsh hit on Smithy’s head, breaking away one of the cloaked arms.

“Th-thanks,” you breathe shakily, gripping the leash of your bag for some stability instead of just leaning on Geno.

“It’s no problem. But please, _please_ try to be more careful,” he pleads, eyes narrow as they watch Bowser hurl Mario at Smithy, hammer breaking off the other arm. His grip on your tightens slightly. “We can’t afford to lose you.”

“...I already told you guys everything I know about Smithy?” You side-eye the spirit and he just shakes his head.

“No—just, stay safe. Please. We’ve come so far together, and the _thought_ of losing someone is…”

A strangled giggle escapes, much to Geno’s incredulous expression. You lightly pat his shoulder, _psshing_. “Okay, I getcha. Don’t worry; we—we’re in this together. We _can’t_ lose. We’re the g-good guys, right?”

Geno returns your wavering smile with his own. “Of course. We’ll beat Smithy _together_.”

You grin. “That’s the spirit!”

The doll remembers himself enough to make an unimpressed face before he’s back to business. Once he makes sure you’ll be fine on your own, he leaves your side to instead spray bullets into Smithy, whose head has now taken on the form of a massive shield.

A breather, thankfully. And a breather for Smithy, too, since this is the head that he uses to heal himself with if you’re remembering correctly.

Just like that, your lingering aches are lost to the fresh burst of bravery, brought on my Geno’s reassurance. Even in the face of Smithy’s healing magic, you coerce the others to use any offensive items as Smithy’s physical and magic defenses are through the roof in his current form.

A slew of Rock Candies are hurled at Smithy, who growls at the onslaught. They do function as a fixed damage item in-game, but here they’re like a miniature version of Meteor Swarm save for the fact they are distinctly non-magical. The cracks in Smithy’s body linger, even beyond the minty green stars indicative of healing magic.

Smithy seems to realize that your stock of damaging items is dwindling, but his magic stores are also decreasing in his efforts to stave off the inevitable.

With more ringing of metal on metal, he shapes his head into what looks like a treasure chest. A freebie, as far as you’re concerned; your Safety Badge will ensure none of his status ailments will work.

Chugging down a Maple Syrup and enjoying how the watery concoction washes away the dryness of your mouth, you cast spells with abandon. You fire a few Diamond Saws at both Smithy’s head and torso, even as he charges up his own attack.

You’re forced to dodge a hail of bullets from his left hand, gasping when a few manage to clip your bad rib. You retaliate with a Water Blast, which you follow up on with a Storm. A massive Shocker rises from the ground beneath Smithy, causing a pained howl to echo about. You exchange thumbs-up with Mallow, who powers up yet another spell; this time Star Rain, if your guess is right.

Despite both the physical and magical array of attacks, Smithy finally opens his chest-shaped head. The mechanisms inside his head undergo a roulette, frantically passing by in a blur of colors before finally settling on a ghostly face sporting a fanged smile. _Fear it is_.

Something akin to magic spreads over the arena, but it fails to take root in you. So you continue to hurl spells at Smithy, announcing the infliction is fear. “Your offenses and defenses are halved; use an Able Juice or get the princess to heal you!”

In the midst of hurling a few Diamond Saws, a hand lands on your shoulder. Warm magic innervates you and you turn. “Thanks for the boost,” you say.

“Figured it might help,” Geno returns, using his own spell on himself. “I...I need the princess to heal me. Got hit. And even if Smithy knows Shredder...hopefully this’ll last.”

You exchange nods and the doll scampers to the others, offering them Geno Boosts to mitigate being feared; scared; whatever.

You and Shyster, equipped with your Safety Badges, offer cover to Toadstool who works to heal Mario, Bowser, and Geno of their status condition. It works, up until Shyster gets a bit too close to Smithy.

Smithy sees the opening and takes it, swinging his massive hammer in a wide arc that manages to catch Shyster just so. Small fragments of white split off his mask, but what really concerns you is seeing your friend stumble back on uneven strides; he’s staggered. And when he falls onto his back, body comparatively tiny to the large hammer making to swing down and crush him—

You don’t hesitate to pry open your bag, feeling the warmth of the item in your grasp. In one swift motion, you pop open the bottle and down its contents, sprinting to get in between Smithy and Shyster.

“You’re nothing more than a _minion_,” Smithy growls, leaning down as he begins his arc. “This will teach you your place...!”

Even if your knee is busted beyond all relief, you pride yourself in your ability to be fast when the need arises—like right now. You manage to slip in between Smithy’s mallet and Shyster’s stunned body. You fling your arms out and—

—you catch the hammer, even when Smithy’s red eyes widen in surprise.

Even through the Red Essence, you can feel the force behind Smithy’s attack. It’s nearly enough to bring you to your knees, but much like an invincibility star, the strength you feel coursing through you enables you to stand even against the metallic behemoth.

“What?!” Smithy growls, readying another swing.

But the end result is the same; you block the blow relatively easily. You glance behind you and see Shyster stirr ever so slightly. Perhaps harsher than you intend, you bark, “_Toadstool_…!”

The princess is too far and too preoccupied with healing all of the others’ lingering injuries. You think you see her glance over apologetically, but you’re smart enough to see that the others didn’t fare so well against Smithy’s earlier attacks either.

Gritting your teeth and hoping the Red Essence will last long enough, you turn your back on Smithy. Instead, you crouch protectively over Shyster and retrieve a Kerokero Cola from your bag.

“Impudent brat, turning your back on me…!” Smithy seethes behind you. His hammer strikes your back but the force merely causes you to buckle a little. There’s no pain, either.

Popping the lid open, you hurry to heal Shyster. He sputters a bit and rolls over, lightly feeling the chips in his mask. On shaky feet, he retrieves his mace and offers you a curt “thank you” before turning around to resume the fight. You make to do the same, but your attention is captured by two things: Shyster’s eye holes widening and the abrupt loss of the Red Essence’s shimmers. _Shredder_…?!

“_Look out_—!” he cries, but you both know it’s already too late.

Something _slams_ into your side and your world erupts into pain.

Everything seems to pass by in a blur: the countless visages of Smithy’s head, the rusted cogs and pipes, even the colorful splotches of your allies.

When you finally collide against something hard, a breathless gasp is ripped from your chest. You can’t help the resultant sobs as you try and fail to catch your breath. Like back then, the air seems to flit through you without taking root in your lungs. And the _pain_…

You struggle to reorient yourself; maybe then you can breathe. But nothing seems to work, and you can feel pained tears pricking your eyes. _Can’t...breathe_…!

And suddenly all sensations seem to lose their definition. A steady warmth innervates your body until you can finally take a breath and not feel like you’re being ripped in two. Healing magic, then.

Opening your eyes shows the princess’s own, bright blue and clearly worried. Her pink lips pull up in a smile and she heaves a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank the stars. I—”

An explosion rings out, followed by rapid gunfire. Toadstool glances away and her relief falls back into worry. She offers you a glance and—

“Don’t worry; I’ll handle them.”

Although clearly hesitant, the princess’s face gains a resolute edge before she picks herself up. Before she leaves, she gives Shyster one last look. “Take care of them; I couldn’t fully heal their injuries.”

“Roger,” is all he replies, hands uncapping another Kerokero Cola. “Go take care of the others.”

And she does just that, skirting right back into the thick of things.

You struggle to pry yourself up, but Shyster is there to help you sit upright. Tenderly, as if touching a fresh wound, he guides you to lean on him before offering you the remains of a Kerokero Cola. “Careful,” he says, tone leaving little room for argument, “this’ll only get rid of the pain and some superficial injuries. You’re not near magical exhaustion, but your body on the other hand…”

“Good,” you reply, wiping your lips. The dull aches seem to disappear, but they linger along with every movement you make. “That means I can still help.”

Shyster’s narrowed eyes don’t faze you; you can’t afford to stop right now. He seems to realize this too, because he looks away with a sigh.

“...don’t push yourself,” he finally relents, helping you to stand. His voice is strained; he must be close to reaching his limit, too. “I’d stay and support you, but I know I can’t really do that given my size. Just...be careful. We’ve gotta look out for one another.”

You grin down at him. With a shared nod, he departs back into the frontlines, leaving you on trembling legs and unsteady feet.

Even so, you glance over the battlefield. You see the wounds marring the others, the blood staining their clothes, the fatigue in their actions. But you’re all still standing, still capable, still fighting for the future you can never take a part in. But…

You watch the tiny figure of your friend leap up, slamming his spiked mace in Smithy’s face. Shyster’s mask is stoic even as he continues his assault. Even if he’s tired, he refuses to give up; has always refused to give up. He’s strong and unrelenting, and there is a strange sort of beauty in that.

Each hit is laden with anger, with purpose, with _hope_.

Everyone here is giving their all; to defend their world, to protect their future, and to promise another tomorrow. You are allies, forged through the same blood, sweat, and tears you’ve shed along your journey.

In spite of all the adversity you’ve faced, _this_ is the reason why you’re here.

You call your magic and it responds in kind. It ebbs and flows, much like the tides upon your beach, and the familiarity comforts you. Just like back on the Sunken Ship and in the barren rooms with which Johnny taught you to control such turbulent power, your drive pushes you on—pushes you to overcome any obstacles in your way.

Even if you cannot indulge in the future you are fighting for, you can protect the ones you love by promising that future _for_ them.

Your deformed joint screams with agony, but the magic flowing through your veins and scalding Smithy is awash with joy. The pale blue light of your powers is bright, illuminating your surroundings alongside the other’s blinding attacks. Even deep as you are in the factory, lost in the void, you have become the light.

Everyone is giving their all, and you are no different. You’re all burning with _hope_.

Smithy bares down on you, eyes brimming with malice and hatred.

The battle rages on, slowly but surely swallowing the last vestiges of strength remaining inside you and your friends. Though Smithy struggles to even lift his hammer, unable to shape his head into something else, he brings down your allies one by one.

Mallow manages to summon a last, tremendous Shocker, engulfing the boss in a blinding explosion of electricity before the prince collapses, magic exhaustion taking him. Smithy trembles with exertion.

Bowser manages to stave off an arc of Smithy’s hammer to protect the princess, but he is left defenseless against the abrupt spray of bullets that pierce through his scaly skin and tear into his hide. Smithy is left nearly gasping for air.

Shyster swings his mace one last time, landing a particularly hard blow against the boss’s skull, breaking the spiney crown atop Smithy's head and fracturing an eye so thoroughly it falls from its socket. Smithy bellows like a wounded animal, retaliating with a swift blow that breaks his mace and knocks him down.

Toadstool attempts to heal the fallen bodies closest to her before Smithy swats her away and retaliates against her last Psyche Bomb with a vicious spray of bullets, sending her tumbling to the ground. Smithy groans in latent agony at the actions.

You’re brought to your knees by a hail of bullets which tear through your shredded shirt and leave burning gashes that leak sluggishly, your magic having been exhausting long ago. Smithy can’t seem to catch his breath.

Geno is sent flying back when he gets a little too close, suffering for his mistake by taking Smithy’s last swing, hammer crunching into his wooden body with all the cacophony of a tree falling. Smithy’s arms fall to his side, mallet likewise dropping from his fatigued grip.

The only one left to stand against the tyrant is none other than Mario.

The plumber soundlessly gasps, chest heaving with exertion. The golden Star Piece nailed to Smithy’s chest reflects the man’s steady gaze.

Mario tenses, then pounces.

Like a blur of red and blue, he vaults over the uneven ground with practiced ease, brown boots making a clamor as they stomp over countless replicas of Smithy’s skull. His wooden hammer is held between his trademark gloves, fingers clenched tight around the weapon.

Smithy’s single eye watches unblinkingly. Slowly, the boss reaffirms his grip on his own iron mallet.

“_Go, Mario_…!” Mallow cries from the ground, watching the spectacle.

The others join in, chanting for the hero. Even Shyster, for all his derision of the man, cries out, “_Stomp him good_!”

“_You’ve got this, mustachio_!” Bowser howls with as much vigor he can muster.

“_You can do it, Mario_!” Toadstool cheers, gloved hands magnifying her voice.

Geno, who landed close to you earlier, drapes an arm over your shoulder and you return the gesture. Supporting one another, you both cry out your own affirmations.

“_Go for it, Mario_!” the spirit yells, fingers clenched tightly around you.

“_Finish the fight, Mario_…!” you call, hope brimming in your chest and heartbeat pounding wildly between your ears.

Smithy growls lowly, wheezing breath leaking into the open air as he raises his hammer to meet Mario’s. And Mario leaps into the air, splitting the darkness like an arrow, before gravity pries him back down. The plumber rears back, ready to strike, and Smithy similarly prepares his own weapon in tandem—

_BANG_…!

Wood clases against iron with a thunderous sound. It echoes amongst the shadows, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Mario’s eyes blaze from beneath his cap, staring vengefully into Smithy’s lone eye. The hammers shift, trembling in their makeshift embrace, the duel forces nearly too much for the weapons to bear. This is a show of strength, of will.

“_Noooooooo_…!” Smithy howls.

_Crack_!

The wooden hammer loses the battle, broken stalk still held firmly within Mario’s grasp. The weapon’s head goes flying off, whistling through the air amongst the undercurrent of aghast disbelief from your comrades.

But Mario doesn’t care; his eyes, bright and stoney, maintain their steeliness as he flips up, off Smithy’s mallet with a ferocious kick. The action tears the iron weapon from Smithy’s piteously weak grasp with an angry yowl, yet the plumber rises into the air once more.

It’s a stark reminder of the final blow he landed on Johnny.

With a flourish, Mario twists into himself like a cannonball, allowing gravity to tug him down yet again. And Smithy can only look on, too weak to even defend himself.

Unraveling, the plumber plants his worn boots in Smithy’s face.

Cracks spread from underneath Mario’s shoes, spider-webbing throughout the boss’s face and body. In a last transference of force, Mario curls in on himself and stomps down harder, maintaining the momentum. The cracks widen until small fragments of metal begin to slip away from Smithy’s face. The boss’s screams remain trapped beneath the plumber’s boots.

With another flourish, Mario releases his foothold and leaps back.

And just like that—it stops.

Smithy’s roars of anguish and anger are cut off when he spontaneously fractures so thoroughly, not even the remnant of his original shape remains. The scraps of metal that once owed him his existence drop between the various nooks and crannies of the floor, forever lost to the factory’s abyss.

And there, in the space Smithy occupied no less than a second ago, rests the last Star Piece.

“It’s...finally over…” Geno breathes in your ear.

You can only bring yourself to swallow, any words unable to make it past the knot in your throat. You nod slowly.

Time seems to slow. You and Geno lift each other from the ground, and he takes care to not press unnecessarily against the multitude of injuries littering your body. Even upright, the two of you remain grasping onto one another, almost unwilling to let the other go.

In spite of their injuries, the others immediately pry themselves from the floor to cheer on Mario, who likewise sags with relief. The hero returns the chatter of Bowser, Toadstool, and Mallow with his signature tipping of his hat. Shyster is dragged into the festivities by the king of Koopas until he, too, finds himself at ease.

And you—

Geno’s fingers dig into your shoulder. You look up only to see his features blurred in the abrupt mistiness caught in your eyes. Something warm and wet slips down a cheek, freeing the doll’s worried visage. Still, he attempts to offer you a reassuring smile.

“It’s time,” he whispers. “Time for me to...to say my goodbyes.”

He nearly chokes on the last word and the tears come hot and fast. You dig your fingers into his trademark cape, the heavy fabric serving you well to keep you grounded with its weight. The gentle warmth from his possessed body amplifies your regrets; regrets for not relishing in his companionship when you had the choice.

A shuddering breath escapes. Your heart quivers behind your ribs. “...I’m sorry.”

Geno doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns and wraps his other arm around you in one swift motion, pressing you as close as possible. The heft of his cape wraps around your trembling shoulders, and his heavy arms clasp around you as if he’s afraid _you’re_ the one who will disappear. His orange curls tickle your face when he shakes his head.

“There’s no need to apologize.”

His voice is quiet but more expressive, more beautiful than any instrument.

Blindly, you reach up and clutch onto the back of his cape, holding onto it like a lifeline. Blearily, you realize this is the first - and last - hug you’ve shared with the star spirit. Your fingers clutch a little tighter.

You try to speak, say anything that would make this moment last a little longer. “...there’s going to be a parade,” you murmur, hating how your tears stain Geno’s cape. “You...you should stay and see it.”

The spirit presses you closer for a moment. “I’m sure I will, even if I’m no longer by your sides.”

The words die and you’re left with quiet.

Geno buries his face into your shoulder. “...thank you; for helping me, for allowing me to understand, for being here at all.” He pulls away, and his expression is strangely tender. You’re glad; there’s no shame or guilt twisting his features.

His smile is lopsided. “Even if I didn’t need your help to fulfill my mission, I’m...I’m glad you’re here. Just as Shyster has been for you, you’ve made the end seem less scary for me, too. I’m not afraid, not anymore. So...if anything, I should be thanking you.”

Geno pulls away, leaving your battered arms hanging in the open air until his wooden hands grasp your own. They remain clasped together, even as he levels a fond stare at you. His smile grows, red eyes glinting in earnest.

“Thank you for everything.”

You blink, and more tears fall. Belatedly, you return his smile with one of your own.

After one last squeeze Geno releases your hands. His face shows nary a trace of hesitation or fear, and for that you return his bravery with yours, regardless of the tears pouring down your cheeks. With a nod he turns away from you, cape flaring behind him like a pair of tattered wings.

Everyone else sees your tearful face before their attention is commanded by Geno’s purposeful stride. He stops just before the golden Star Piece, then slowly kneels. Once it’s in his grasp, the doll spins around to face everyone, face genial.

“Thank you, everyone!”

He continues smiling, even as the other six Star Pieces manifest themselves above and around him like halos. They twirl on their axis, spinning around one another until their colors blur together like a rainbow-infused fractal. With a small lift, the last Star Piece joins its brethren.

The seven Star Pieces continue their waltz, even as light streams down to bathe Geno in their gentle glow.

Slowly, he captures the attention of everyone else, offering them his goodbyes just as he had done with you. Mallow and Toadstool are similarly tearful, while Bowser and Shyster merely offer an affectionate scoff. Mario remains silent as ever but tips his cap with a heartfelt expression.

With one last nod, Geno’s scarlet eyes find yours once more.

“You still have time,” he says, “before you return home.”

And you, be it from the awe form his ethereal appearance or the sheer relief at succeeding—you laugh, bright and loud. Wiping away your tears, you openly grin at the doll.

You glance down at Shyster, who sidled up to your shaking legs in a show of support and comfort. Looking back up at Geno, you reply simply, “I am home.”

And Geno laughs that dorky laugh of his.

The doll nods one last time before he’s completely swallowed by the fountain of light shining down. It’s a dazzling display, one you’ve seen before in the early hours long ago, back when you and Shyster had been camping by Rose Way.

When the light finally fades, Geno is no longer standing there. Instead there rests a tiny figure, slack with nothing to hold it up. Tenderly, Mario approaches the doll and pries it from the ground.

Even if it shares his namesake, that isn’t Geno.

You watch through sluggish tears as the others stare down at the unresponsive figurine, expressions solemn.

“Is...is he gone?” Shyster asks.

You smile. “No.”

And sure enough, something flickers between the joints of the wooden doll. Tiny sparks of light break through, much like a chick from beneath its eggshell. Brighter and brighter until finally, the wisp responsible breaks free at last.

It coalesces into a tiny star made of golden light.

Geno floats about, trailing sparkles as he hovers over the others. Even if he no longer has a body with which to express himself, it’s plainly obvious he’s happy, given how the twinkling visage bounces about. The others share his glee, holding out their hands for him to land on as the last, tangible goodbye.

Much too soon, it’s your turn.

You hold your palms up and your battered limbs shake with the effort. But the light of the tiny star in your hands is warm; warm like the ocean’s surface, pregnant with the sun’s heat. It’s...nice. Nicer than the cold you’ve been forced to bear.

“Hi, Geno,” you say.

He replies with his own language, voice ringing out like bells. You don’t understand a word, but you smile regardless.

Holding him close enough to feel his warmth on your cheeks, you murmur, “Thanks for everything. I’ll miss you.”

The moment seems to last a lifetime but ends far too soon. Even so, you can’t help but reach out when he leaves your hold, returning to where the seven Star Pieces await his command.

With a subtle flash, Geno guides them up, up, and up, spinning together as if caught in some unseen beat. And then there’s nothing but light, brilliant and blinding, forcing you to shut your eyes against the onslaught. The last glimpse you see is that of your allies, similarly hiding away from the torrent of white.

When you finally open your eyes, you can’t help the gasp which pries itself from behind your stuttering heart.

You’re on the vista overlooking Bowser’s Keep.

A quick glance shows your companions sharing your surprise. Still, you’re glad to see the doll still held in Mario’s gentle grasp, likely to be returned to Gaz at a later point in time.

In utter silence, you all watch as Exor is reduced to nothing more than dust on the wind, leaving Bowser’s Keep as it was before Smithy invaded. With the Star Road repaired, there is nothing stopping them from granting the wishes of the people; for your group to have succeeded against Smithy, and for his influence to be banished from the world.

“It’s over…” Shyster breathes below you. The others nod in tandem, in relief.

And you—your spent body finally gives out.

But you don’t collapse; a warm body halts your fall. The last thing you see is the familiar mask of Shyster, chipped in places and cracked in others, yet comfortingly undisturbed.

You welcome the darkness like an old friend.

*** * * * * * ***

On shaky legs and with unsteady steps, you pad across the hillside. The soft grass tickles your ankles.

“...this spot looks good enough.”

With a steady exhale, you glance around and find your companion’s words to be true; it’s nice and relatively flat, yet high enough to have a nice view of the festivities below. Even if the sun has begun it’s descent, painting the sky a vivid ombre of oranges and reds, the subtle breeze is warm. It’s pleasant.

You plop down onto the grass unceremoniously, your companion soon following. The gentle heat his tiny body seems to radiate trickles through the cold of your own.

“Oi.”

You glance down into the mask. His expressions may be few but right now his mask betrays nothing.

He shifts uncomfortably. “Is...is it almost time…?”

You breathe in, slow and steady. The motion is at odds with the sporadic thrumming of your heart, wild and untamed behind your sternum. Even so, his tiny body and all its heat soothes your nerves. “Yeah, I think so.”

He dips his head and stares out over the view. You follow his lead.

From all the way up here you can see the entirety of the Mushroom Kingdom. From the plains in which you are currently settled to the cobbled pathways lined with lights and lanterns, even the forests which seem so far yet so close...it’s breathtaking. The balmy air is painfully reminiscent of your first few weeks here in this strange, wonderful world.

But you’re also so far from the general cheer and joy below that you can’t hear the excited chatter of the Toads bustling about, nor of the many, many others preparing their floats for the parade. You can even see the familiar hull of the Sunken Ship, sunken no more as King Calamari’s tentacles have given the vessel new legs with which to traverse the land. Faintly, you watch several bandanas - some blue, mostly red - scamper about. Standing at the head of the ship is none other than Johnny, whose cape flows in the wind. The same wind causes your bandana to tickle your throat.

Here on this hill you are separated from them. You sort of had an inkling, but despite the ache in your heart you are not alone.

“Hey, Shyster…”

He perks up, offering you his full attention. You smile down at him. “It’s a bit too quiet up here. What...what do you wanna talk about?” _To pass the time_ remains unsaid.

Shyster shakes his head before releasing a tiny scoff. Jovially, he quips, “We went on this super tedious journey across the world to save everyone, and you’re wondering what to talk about? I dunno about you, but there’s plenty of things I can think of off the top of my head...”

You click your tongue. “Can’t be too hard, considering how short you are.”

“_Tch_. Like you’re one to talk.”

And the two you laugh, reveling in one another’s presence.

Just like that, the two of you fall back into exchanging backhanded compliments and the same snark which served as the foundation of your relationship. You continue watching the preparations of the myriad of characters you’ve met along the way, many of which you grew to know on a more personal level.

The clown brothers frolic amongst the variety of floats, their colorful garb and playful patterns commanding the attention of onlookers. Grate Guy blows exploding bubbles from his trumpet while Knife Guy juggles said weapons without a care in the world. The two of them continue their merry jig, often to the annoyance of their fellow festival-goers.

“Still as irritating as ever,” Shyster bites out with crossed arms, but his tone betrays his amusement.

“Wouldn’t have them any other way,” you say before amending, “actually, I would’ve preferred them to be blunt when it came to offering me advice.”

“...you took up the advice from a couple of murderous clowns?”

“I mean, it _was_ pretty good advice, not gonna lie.”

The Sunken Ship leans to and fro, likely the result of King Calamari being difficult. Johnny is there to discipline the giant Blooper, much to the thanks of his crew. Several red bandanas are armed with mops and buckets, scrubbing the deck as you did long ago. The few blue bandanas stand at the ready behind their captain, spears upright and posture taut. Despite your best efforts, you can’t pick out Stripes with his infectious grin or Stitches with his trademark eyepatch.

“At least I don’t see any of those Greapers,” Shyster groans. “Things sure gave me the creeps.”

You _pssh_. “Yeah, no kidding. I thought they were adorable. They also made for good companions when _someone_ was being an emotional trainwreck.” You cough not at all suspiciously. “...y’know, _me_. Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it. We all have to sort through our shit sometime.”

“...and this is why I prefer your company over theirs. Insightful little jerk.”

You laugh when Shyster puffs out his chest in pride before slapping it, much like that Sling Shy.

A giant cloud sits on the cobblestone streets, decorated with a variety of plants and tapestries which proudly display Nimbus Land’s sigil. The king and queen chat merrily amongst themselves and curious onlookers, the connection between their airborne kingdom and the surface rekindling. And Mallow sits atop the massive float, happily waving beneath his regal cape and crown. If you squint enough, you even spot the familiar magenta shape of the Shy Away, floating nearby with a sparkling watering can in his grasp.

“Isn’t that the dolt who didn’t know humans bleed?” Shyster asks.

You laugh. “Yup! Kinda weird he didn’t know, but—hey, do Shy Guys bleed, o-or have blood…?”

“I’ve been injured many, _many_ times in the past months, let alone in that damn factory. You tell me.”

“...fair enough.”

Further along the line of floats is Bowser’s, a replica of his keep which still sits ominously in the distance. Even so, the king of Koopas is clearly enjoying himself, blitzing around in his clown car as his minions hammer away the finishing touches. Even the populace of Toads bear no ill will, reveling in the same glee the Koopa is enthralled by. Perhaps funnier is seeing the flitting shadows of Croco and a few Crooks, loitering around the base of the float with empty sacks thrown across their backs.

“See, if they were any good at stealing they’d wait until the parade actually starts,” Shyster notes. “That way it’s basically a guaranteed getaway, what with all the festivities. Not like anyone’s gonna stop it for a few thieves.”

You snort. “Speaking of which, what if I told you they _do_ wait until the parade starts to steal from Bowser?”

“Then they’re at least somewhat knowledgeable when it comes to making a clean leave.”

“...you’re quite the thug, aren’t you.”

At the very end of the line is a massive prop, built in the likeness of an invincibility star. Upon its two arms rests none other than the princess of the Mushroom Kingdom and its hero, an otherwise nominal plumber. You can barely make out the pinks of Toadstool’s dress and the trademark red of Mario, but you know you’ll have the chance to see them once the parade begins.

You sigh and can’t help but complain that you missed out on a couple day’s worth of preparations. Apparently, the Sky Troopas from Monstro Town had spread the word of your victory far and wide, which then led to the inevitable planning of the credits-sequence: a mass celebration for which everyone across the world would attend.

“Couldn’t be helped,” Shyster remarks easily. “We were all pretty beat up, and you were no exception. In fact, I seem to recall someone getting smacked across the room by Smithy’s hammer. Which, by the way, was about as big as you.”

You roll your eyes at his narrowed eyes. Crossing your arms defensively, you say, “It was either that or you getting crushed to death. The choice was obvious—no. Don’t give me that look. You’re really gonna yap at me for playing meat-shield _now_?”

Shyster huffs after a second. “Guess there’s no point. Still, I just...don’t like seeing you hurt.”

You smile. “Likewise.” Turning back to admire the plethora of people and projects, you admit, “It’s pretty much too late for regrets.”

Shyster seems to be at a loss for words until finally, comfortingly, he scoffs. It’s soft yet familiar. “Then why don’t the both of us shut up and enjoy the view? Look; I think I see the lean green guy up front.”

And you spot where the Shy Guy is pointing. Surely, at the head of the floats, there stands Luigi in all his glory.

“...imagine if I hadn’t been knocked out for three days straight,” you complain again. Throwing your arms out, you say, “I could’ve met _Luigi_. Like, _dude_.”

Shyster laughs at you and you can’t help but laugh as well. Because waking up with him hunched over your bed, still caught in a fitful sleep, can’t ever be replaced.

_Loyalty is earned_, Johnny had said. _Trust him and his decision to remain by your side_.

As you converse over whether or not the green-clad plumber is as much of a Mr. massacre as his older brother, an abrupt hush falls over the valley. Even the constant fluttering of the Sky Troopa’s wings cease as the platoon stops carrying messages from float to float. The crowds of Toads, Moles, even Yoshis, and a variety of peaceful monsters recede like tides returning to the ocean, making way for the beginning of the parade.

With bated breath you watch as Luigi lifts his baton.

And then he leads the progression, a flurry of music filling the empty air with its triumphant notes. The song is an orchestration of the song played during the in-game credits, joyous and charming and so undeniably _Mario_.

You and Shyster are rightfully mesmerized by the displays, watching on with dedicated silence as the parade traverses through the cobbled streets of the Mushroom Kingdom.

The band - an array of Toads toting around their instruments - follow behind Luigi, bouncing and marching to the beat. They are backed by a cart decorated with Piranha Plants which whistle alongside the music, thanks to Toadofsky who amplifies the music with his own keyboard.

The Nimbus Land float is next. You and Shyster promptly burst into giggles when the prince himself jumps from the carriage, banging a pair of cymbals so thoroughly you can hear it all the way up the hill. It’s then when you notice the smaller cart behind the clouds is one of humble wood, which Frogfucius waves from. Mallow joins his grandpa to the glee of his parents, and all continue to wave and smile at the masses.

A massive bomb is next, carried on the shoulders of Mole men and women. Atop it sit Dyna and Mite alongside their parents, the little ones screaming with childish glee.

Bowser’s float follows, and sure enough you and Shyster watch Croco and his fellow Crooks attempt to make a getaway with sacks filled to the brim. You both nearly bust a gut when Bowser gives chase in his clown cart, roaring with vehemence.

Despite her massive ego, you’re a bit aghast when you see Valentina in an intricate golden stoop, carried by none other than Dodo. Apparently, she had fled to the surface and made a living as an actress of some sort, at least according to Shyster. When she releases a bouquet of colorful balloons with a flourish, you think the job suits her.

Booster’s train chugs along steadily. He and his three Snifits wave from the cartridges. It’s heavily apparent which Snifit is which, since 3 remains painfully shy. _Heh, cute_.

The darkness of the incoming night sky doesn’t halt the festivities. Instead, the cloak of darkness serves to amplify the beauty of the spectacle, because just as Johnny’s ship slides into view—

“Look!” You point up at where a dazzling golden light abruptly falls, trailing sparkles behind it.

Shyster is quick. “Is that—?”

“_Geno_!” you both cheer.

The star spirit dips low, sprinkling his magic across the remaining floats. The glimmers manifest themselves as the same strings of colorful lights you remember in-game, making the rest of the parade look like those cheesy Christmas decorations. Even so, you can’t deny the unbridled joy you feel at the spectacle. It’s like a sea of stars down there, twinkling away without a care in the world.

Geno twirls midair before departing once more, floating off into the nighttime sky. He blends in among the hundreds of other stars lighting the darkness.

A derisive snort leaves Shyster. “Betcha he’s got a better view from up there.”

You laugh under your breath. Staring down at the Shy Guy and his close proximity, you think not. Even so, you pry your eyes from your best friend to instead gaze upon the Sunken Ship, given a second life.

You wave as wildly as you can, even hopping up on unstable legs to scream at Johnny and his crew, hoping for another glimpse of your dearest friends. You don’t know if you succeed, but Shyster is there to catch you when you collapse because your knee has had enough, despite resting in a coma for three days straight.

Amongst the Toads with glowing caps, you spot the clown brothers, weaving and bobbing through the crowd. They are completely in their element, partaking in the festivities as both members of the audience and performers meant to remain on the pavement like the rest of the progression. You shake your head; mercenaries don’t abide by rules without warrant.

Then comes the end of the sequence. First is a massive mushroom; trademark of the Mushroom Kingdom and of _Mario_ as a whole, really. Then a Flower, much like the ones Mr. Mycil had you pick in the beginning…

You’re glad you got the chance to, well, not exactly _tell_ him or Mr. Shroomby goodbye. As soon as you woke up, the parade was already being prepped to go. But you did leave behind the yellow canvas bag back at the castle’s nursery with instructions to return it to the old innkeeper—and to thank him for everything he ever did for ‘Urchin.’

Right, right...first you were Urchin, then ‘seer’ - which was both annoying and apt - then came Sharkbait...

As the invincibility star approaches, twinkling like a universe with Geno’s latent magic and adorned with both Mario and Toadstool, you turn to Shyster. And you take a breath before—

...

Shyster tilts his head in confusion. “...What?”

You return his gaze with a smile. “That’s my name; my _real_ one.”

Hesitantly, the Shy Guy repeats it and the sight warms your heart. He nods once before offering a distinct sound in his own tongue. It rings out much like a babbling creek, pleasant and peaceful.

“If you couldn’t tell, that’s _my_ real name,” he offers. “You can try to mimic it, but I doubt you can.”

You stifle a laugh. “I’d give it a try but I’m also, like, kinda worried I’ll say something else and insult you in your own language by accident. I’ve always had problems speaking; so much so I got speech therapy when I was younger, _ha ha_!”

Shyster _tchs_ under his breath and shakes his head, but the motions are affectionate.

The parade’s roaring chorus dies down, leaving soft lilting notes to drift aimlessly through the air. They encourage a shaky breath to pass your lips, even as you raise a hand to wave back at the figures of Mushroom Kingdom’s princess and hero.

In doing so, you realize that you can see the dazzling light through the tips of your fingers.

Faintly, the tiniest glimmer of gold detaches from your hand, leaving the edges a little intangible.

...It’s time.

You plaster on a wavering smile as you meet Shyster’s eyes. Ever the observant one, he too has noticed the tiny motes of light flickering into existence at the cost of your own.

“So…” you begin, voice dry and throat tight, “did I ruin the experience for you…?”

Shyster seems to be lost in his thoughts. The space between where his brows would be seem to shift, his mask betraying his confusion. The porcelain, for being so stoic, is obvious when it comes to the emotions flitting across its surface.

A sharp inhale makes your smile turn genuine, growing even wider when Shyster correctly recalls, “Back in Rose Way...the first night; you...you remember that…?”

“Of course,” you reply. “I’m horrendously sentimental, especially when it comes to the people I love.”

The breath is chased from Shyster entirely before he promptly bursts into a fit of laughter. He’s resorted to hugging himself before he nearly falls over, heavily leaning on you. The warmth of his tiny frame masks the cold of your larger one nicely.

Making to wipe away mock tears, Shyster looks up at you. His voice is remarkably tender yet strangely forlorn.

“...No. If anything, you made the entire experience worth it.”

Something clouds your vision for the briefest moment. You blink, and your cheek feels warmer and wetter for it. A shaky sigh escapes from beneath your trembling heart. Even as the golden lights drifting from your body begin to manifest at a faster pace, you find the fear leaving you.

If Geno can bear to part ways with those he cherishes without hesitance, then so can you.

You hastily scrub at your eyes but the tears refuse to stop. Despite them, you openly grin at Shyster and babble, “Don’t worry; these are happy tears.”

Then, almost imperceptibly, something slips from one of the eye holes in his mask. In its wake is a trail that glints in the light coming from you. He nods once, slowly yet with certainty.

You may have many, many regrets, but you could never forsake _this_.

Shyster is granting your wish, after all. This time, you won’t die alone.

“You...you were going to ask me something earlier,” Shyster begins, voice straining to remain composed, “back in the factory. If...if you don’t mind me asking, what…?”

Your smile falters for the briefest moments. “...I...it’s really selfish, and I don’t—”

“_Please_.”

It’s a heartfelt plea.

And you were always a softy when it came to Shy Guys, even more for your best friend. That latent wish is pried from your lungs. “I...I want to be remembered; be remembered as I was _here_, happier than I ever was before. Here, when I had friends and a family who cared a-and loved me, and…”

You heave a shuddering breath. “I guess I want to mean enough to be remembered.”

And Shyster _laughs_.

He laughs and laughs, the golden light wafting from your body surrounding him like a halo.

When he gasps for air, wiping at the steady stream of tears leaking from his eyes, he finds your gaze. With as much emphasis as can be contained within the soft words, he readily replies, “I don’t think I could ever forget you, even if I tried. Which I _won’t_; you’ll always be my best friend. No matter what.”

The dam inside you bursts, and you lurch forward.

You wrap your arms around Shyster’s tiny body and crush him against you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t care. You need to do this before your body finally fades away, before you won’t have a body to hug him with at all.

Even now, the feeling of his worn robes and tiny arms likewise grasping your own...it’s like you’re holding onto shadows. The echoes of his impressions lose their meaning until you can barely feel him at all.

Hesitantly, you pry yourself away from him. You note that you can see him through your arms. The grass beneath your bare legs no longer tickles them. The lights are growing.

With shaky hands, you untie the bandana wrapped around your neck.

It loses its transparency as soon as you hold it out to examine it one last time. Faded red fills it now that it’s no longer attached to a ghost. The edges are worn, coming undone in some places and frayed in most, but you know Shyster is good with a needle; he can repair the cloth without issue.

Swallowing, you hold it out for Shyster. His tear-stained mask looks utterly lost as he stares down at the heavy fabric; so heavy you can barely keep it aloft with your near-invisible limbs.

“It’d be a shame to let it go to waste,” you say, uncaring how the words may give away your ultimate fate. “And...I think it’d suit you.”

Shyster bobs his head before prying the bandana from your fingers. You can’t feel the gentle heat coming off him anymore.

Still you try to grasp onto his hands, lowering your head to be as close as possible. You offer him your widest grin, hoping it reaches your eyes in spite of the tears pouring out.

“Thank you,” you say. “Thank you for being here with me.”

Shyster heaves a watery laugh. “You made me want to stay. And y’know what? I wouldn’t change a thing for the world.”

You lean down to wrap in him another hug, embracing him despite the fact you can no longer feel him. He no longer reaches for you. Instead he hunches over the fabric protectively, as if it’s the last thing keeping you tethered to this world.

Your body flickers once; twice.

Shyster looks up, mask unmoving save for the tears dripping steadily down his cheeks. Feebly, he reaches out one last time—

Unlike the bitter cold of last time, your body - now present only like the reflection atop water is - is filled with an unyielding warmth. You recognize this feeling: it’s love.

You offer him one last smile. “Thank you.”

The last thing you see is Shyster’s tear-streaked mask, his tiny body bathed in golden rays, before the light overtakes him completely. And then—

A warm darkness embraces you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..._oof_. 
> 
> Well, that was certainly a ride. I've been working on this passion project for over a year now, and I think I've learned a lot of things along the way. And while I won't deny that I initially wrote this fic for myself and myself alone, I decided to publish it as a means for personal catharsis and for any feedback about my writing, my character interpretations, or anything I've put into words, really.
> 
> Which I why I have to say: _Thank you_ for sticking around until the end; thank you to those who took the times out of their day to read my work; thank you to those who honored me with their own words; and above all, thank you for similarly bringing me joy as this story has apparently done for you guys. To think I could inspire you just as you've inspired me to finish this...words can't aptly describe how fulfilling that is.
> 
> Despite _Super Mario RPG_ being a game that's near and dear to my heart, would you believe me if I told you I've never actually completed it myself? I always found myself watching others indulge in it, too scared to participate myself for fear of seeming not good enough, or being unable to progress without someone holding my hand. 
> 
> I suppose those feelings manifested themselves as this particular reader-insert. Though I aimed to write something fun and whimsical, I also write as a means to overcome personal turmoil. Maybe this story's a bit unnecessarily dramatic, but it's something I enjoy and when I post it, it's something I hope others can as well.
> 
> (Then again, two of my major inspirations for this came from _Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky_ and _Madoka Magica_, of all things. So angst is par for the course as far as I'm concerned lol.)
> 
> I guess I'll end this tremendous end note by reaffirming my thanks to you guys, and redirecting you to another work which _heavily_ inspired me to write this fic in the first place: Loopy-lupe's own ['fic,'](https://loopy-lupe.tumblr.com/post/180631072585/do-you-like-mario-rpgs-paper-mario-do-you-like) which is actually a set of gorgeous illustrations framing the entirety of the game! Please check it out; it's _amazing_!!
> 
> On that note; the epilogue isn't nearly as long as this chapter (nearly 20k words...!), but I still need to make the art I wanna upload alongside it (I'm...procrastinating a bit OTL). Sooo...expect the final chapter in a couple of weeks? 
> 
> I can only hope you enjoyed _**Deluge**_!!


	25. Estuary, Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where one journey ended, another begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Quick note:** Kinda spoiler-y, but this chapter will make the most sense if you understand _Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga + Bowser's Minions_, in particular the latter sub-game. With that in mind, I hope you enjoy!

Even if he traded in his worn, white shoes for the standard blue long ago, he can’t help but miss the old tattered pair. They once carried him across the world, after all. And while he doesn’t necessarily think of himself as the sentimental sort, he can’t help but think back whenever something strikes him.

He looks up from where his blue shoes are drenched in sand to instead glance out over the waters of Gwarhar Lagoon. 

The tides lap up and down the shoreline, waters crystal clear and shimmering in the afternoon sun shining overhead. A curious dip with his shoes proved the waters to be as warm and inviting as they look. 

Still caught beneath the waves of reminiscing, he can’t help but wonder how you would’ve reacted.

He can still picture how giddy you were at the prospect of visiting Seaside Town’s beach, so much so he had to finish the shopping because you couldn’t help yourself. And he later found you standing nearly knee-deep in the gentle ebb and flow of the ocean waves, talking to Mr. Spirit like the both of you hadn’t previously been at each other’s throats. The amends were of the quick and sloppy variety, but you were still overjoyous when scouring the sands for shells afterward.

You were always like the water in that regard. Going with the flow one moment to being obnoxiously stubborn the next, not to mention those moments where you were as unyielding and turbulent as a storm. It’s something he misses dearly.

“Hey, Captain Shy Guy!”

He perks up and spots the rest of his cohorts merrily frolicing in the waters of the beach. Their trademark flags flit in the balmy breeze.

“C’mon; the water’s great!” Captain Goomba cries jovially before he trips, planting his face into the sand bar. Almost like insult to injury, the incoming tide washes over the minion, drenching the poor sap from head to toe. But being the stubborn fool he is, the Goomba quickly rights himself with the same grin. 

Spitting out a bit of seawater, Captain Goomba continues. “Really, this is the perfect time for us to take a break!”

“Maybe in a bit,” he easily replies. 

He’s content with watching the others play amongst the lapping waves. If anything, the sight of Captains Goomba, Boo, and Koopa Troopa serve to remind him of his time alongside the princess, her hero, a fluffy prince, a possessed doll, and his current boss. It hurts in a gentle kind of way, like a tiny scar reopening. Because where there are similarities there must also be memories from which the comparisons arise.

And you only exist in his memories.

Still, he can’t deny how Captain Goomba’s infectious smile and foolhardy nature are strangely similar to yours.

There’s a lot of things that Captain Goomba seems to share with his memory of you, at least to him. Perhaps that’s why he found himself plowing across the foreign lands of Beanbean Kingdom alongside the plucky Goomba with nary a complaint. Well, realistically there were _many_ complaints on his end, because at the end of the day Captain Goomba was sorely in need of someone to guide him. But it served to give him purpose, too.

He supposes that’s one large difference between you and the Goomba: where you lacked drive, he thrives with purpose. 

While there are many coincidental attributes Captain Goomba and you seem to share, he’s also aware there are many things which aren’t so easily superimposed. 

He tries to tell himself he thinks of these things because it’s something to pass the time, but he can’t fool himself. If anything, seeing Captain Goomba act the way he does...he sees the flitting image of you in similar scenarios. He misses you so much his heart has yet to fully recover. He’s smart enough to know it never will, not really.

But that’s fine; it has to be. People come and people go. That’s just the way life is.

He recalls telling you that too, once upon a time. 

So he categorizes the sameness between the memories of you and the Goomba he now travels alongside, categorizes the stark differences and tallies them all up in his head. It’s a way to cope, but it’s also a way to rationalize that the two of you are very, very different people and should therefore be treated as such.

Captain Goomba deserves to not be the medium for which to remember you by, and you don’t deserve to be remembered through a proxy.

He’s getting better about it, but he can’t seem to kick the habit. Still, he’s got all the time in the world to work on it.

He heaves a small sigh, thankful its sound is swallowed by the incoming waves and the cries of Goonies overhead. Separate this shore may be, he’s still a Shy Guy and can’t be trusted to be upfront with his emotions. Especially when they concern you and the lasting impression you’ve left in his heart.

So he pries the baton from the backstrap of his mask, laying it flat across his lap. Tenderly, as if preparing to press against a fresh wound - in a way, he _is_ \- he reaches for the worn fabric tied neatly around the top. 

He plucks the faded red cloth off and holds it close, relishing in its subtle heft. Given his rather necessary ability to sew - comes with being a Shy Guy, really - he knew his way around a needle and patched up your bandana nicely.

A few liberties were taken, especially since he never really found a need to use the scrap of cloth. It had been left to its lonesome besides the rest of his belongings, loose threads serving as reminders of the arduous journey you had taken by his side. While he first gave you the incentive to depart at all, he doesn’t regret the moments he shared with you, be they good or bad. Everyone has their ups and downs; you and he were no different. 

But once Captain Goomba had stumbled upon him in the vast plains outside Beanbean’s Castle Town, he finally found a use for the bandana.

He set to work on it immediately once they set up camp for the night. Procuring the same sewing kit he picked up in Seaside Town, he staved off the inevitable fraying of the bandana’s edges by lining it with a golden binding. 

Nothing could be done about the slightly faded color, but he refused to use one of the flags Captain Goomba seemed to carry just for the occasion. No; this would be what he used as Captain Shy Guy, and it was his and his alone.

Just like how you used to call him Shyster; that was his name for you and you alone. 

It was a dumb name, especially considering what led to you tacking it onto him, but he owned it. 

Even when he was left a sobbing mess back on that hill overlooking the remnants of the parade, he was left with uncertainty. What would he do now that he’d helped prevent catastrophe? Would he ever be fine with mingling along the countless other faces, forever a minion and nothing more? In a way, Shyster suited him perfectly.

He had always been self-reliant and back then was no different. He picked himself up and, while unable to truly join in the lingering festivities, he searched for something, anything to keep him occupied from the fresh heartbreak.

Considering how you and he left everyone only for him to return with you no longer beside him, the others had understandably been upset. None of them had the chance to say their goodbyes. You had woken up, requested to watch the parade instead of being a part of it, and that was that; who was he to deny such a request? So he took you up that grassy hill and the two of you had watched the spectacle together. And then…

You disappeared.

What little time you had left was spent by his side, and honestly? The others could stew in their grief for all he cared. Because at the end of the day, they didn’t know you like he had. They weren’t partners like you two had been. 

Maybe it was an offer of goodwill, but Mallow wanted everyone to come back with him to Nimbus Land. 

It was a short trip, one which was irritating if only because that Shy Away asked after you. Still he had swallowed his pride and informed everyone that you were gone for good; gone just like Geno. That quickly shut up the Shy Away’s queries, and although he knew he was lashing out in his sorrow, he couldn’t seem to help it. The others appeared to understand this, too. Even the Shy Away had pressed a reassuring hand to his shoulder, silent and recalcitrant. It’s not often Shy Guys form bonds with those outside their own kind, much less humans.

He remembers apologizing a lot on that trip.

And then the newly crowned Prince of Nimbus Land had escorted everyone through the familiar, decadent halls of the castle. Hidden away deep within its maze-like halls, a stone’s throw away from the royal gardens, stood six golden statues: a memorial for the seven heroes who saved the world.

He wasn’t too sure whether to be miffed or moved when the statue depicting him was an extension of yours. But the longer he looked at it, you openly grinning down at his own golden replica, he realized it was perfect. You were partners through and through; two halves of a whole. You were the brawns and he was the brains, regardless of how counterintuitive it was.

He had stood in front of you for a long, long time. The others gave him a wide berth, leaving him to his silent mourning. Even that Shy Away had come to offer his own condolences in the form of a wreath of flowers, which he quietly placed upon your head before taking his leave.

“A shame they couldn’t stay,” the Shy Away said. “They helped so many of us. I’ll miss them for sure.”

Bowser eventually spoke to him. The Koopa’s words were honest and earnest, extending a place amongst his ranks should he need direction. 

He had simply shook his head and thanked the king, but stressed he needed time to figure things out for himself.

After bidding Mallow goodbye, likely for good considering his newfound obligations, everyone had parted ways once they touched down to the surface. 

Mario and Princess Toadstool departed for the Mushroom Kingdom to likely relish in the peace left after Smithy’s defeat while they could.

Bowser never rescinded his offer, but likewise returned to his keep atop the rugged mountain to begin repairing it after Exor’s onslaught.

Geno had returned to the Star Road at the end of the parade, gone as abruptly as you had on that hill.

And he…

He stuck around Mushroom Kingdom for a bit. Despite the genial air about the place, there was a lingering distaste for him based on his looks; Shysters _did_ previously invade it. But he had unfinished business and thus went about returning the yellow canvas bag you used. He even snuck into the castle - because he wanted to avoid Mr. Jumpman and the princess, honestly - and stole it, only to card it back to the inn.

He returned it to the old Toad behind the counter. Mr. Shroomby hadn’t changed a bit during your adventure, still a surprisingly spry Toad with bushy eyebrows and beard. Over a cup of tea they spoke at length, all topics revolving around you. 

“I’d like to thank you,” Mr. Shroomby said whilst staring at the worn canvas, battered from a lifetime of trials. “For keeping up your side of the deal.”

He scoffed but there was no bite behind it. “I told you I’d keep to my word.”

The old Toad nodded. “I’m glad you were there for them, even at the end. You didn’t have to return this to me, but I guess I’ve got to thank you for that, too, _har har_!”

He shrugged half-heartedly. “Seemed like the right thing to do. They...they were pretty fond of you, after all.”

Mr. Shroomby hummed under his breath. He took a sip of his cup, raising an eyebrow. “It went both ways. Still, I suppose now you’re lookin’ fer something to keep you occupied. Something to keep the grief at bay.”

If he could’ve he would have frowned. “...maybe. But I—”

“Now you listen to this old man,” Mr. Shroomby cut in with a tone leaving no room for argument. His next words had been a stark contrast, warm and inviting. Leaning back, the Toad wistfully said, “I’d be a fool to not recognize heartbreak when I see it. Lived a long and eventful life, I have. Which is why I know we all process loss differently; process a lot of things differently. It comes with the territory of bein’ our own people with our own experiences.

“...that’s the folly of advice, I s’pose,” the gray Toad had admitted. “Can’t know for certain whether or not it’ll help in the long run. But as long as you don’t mean no harm, why not try? Just like with lil’ Urchin back then, I think you need to find yourself too. Don’t let doubt consume you. After all, you’re young; got plenty o’ time to figure things out for yourself, _har har har_…! I’m sure they’re doin’ the same, wherever they are now.”

And the words struck a chord with him. Because they were strangely similar to the same mindset he adopted before he set off on his own, abandoning his home in the hidden village for the greater beyond.

Just like back then, and now after your departure: he could do things at his own pace. He could learn to navigate the pain.

So with a final farewell to Mr. Shroomby, he left Mushroom Kingdom with his trusty backpack and bedroll. Like before when he was aimlessly wandering to see what the world had to offer, now he repeated the same motions in the hopes of an epiphany. Time may not heal wounds, but it allows for one to work out _how_ to go about healing in the first place.

While he enjoyed revisiting the many places he explored previously, it was always too quiet. It was expected since you weren’t there to fill the air with your nonsensical muttering and sass, but it was jarring nonetheless.

Bandit’s Way, Rose Way, Tadpole Pond, he avoided Rose Town as usual, but he did end up delving into the Forest Maze; it was all familiar in an aching sort of way. 

From a toppled branch in the Forest Maze, maybe even one found at the site where you had crashed with your parachute, he ended up carving another slingshot. He was rusty but soon enough muscle memory kicked in and hostile monsters were no longer an issue.

Then came Moleville - even if he avoided those damned mines, too - which led to Booster Pass, Booster Tower; he even decided to see Marrymore for himself because he was in the area. 

By himself, he was just another Shy Guy; not Shyster, not the hero who helped take down Smithy, not anyone.

That feeling was familiar, too.

Maybe that was why he also missed you so fervently: you made him feel like he was someone. Instead of another face in the crowd you made him feel special, made him stand out, made him...well, made him feel worth spending time with.

The sight of Star Hill revealed the first cracks in his resolve. And then came Seaside Town…

Hefting his backpack, he had stomped past the peaceful beach and gentle tides, making his way to a familiar cropping of rocks. Up the jagged path and further into the soggy darkness he went, because maybe this would do something for his lingering doubts.

The cove was craggy and frigid as ever. But below where the cavern’s maw opened up for the sea to spill in, there was nothing but a pool of water. Not even a splinter of wood floated on its surface to prove the Sunken Ship had once called this damp cave home.

More people you never got the chance to say goodbye to, and now people who he also couldn’t part ways with.

Johnny was likely coasting over the ocean, Stitches and Stripes amongst his ever-loyal crew, all probably overjoyed their vessel was sunken no longer. A happy ending after the years of anguish which preceded it. 

Yet his happy ending eluded him.

His tattered white shoes, now caked with so much grime their canvas could hardly be seen, carried him on. If not to see off the pirates who had taken them captive only to befriend them, then to another place which served as a refuge of sorts.

Grate Guy’s casino also remained stagnant. The glamor and glitz was a stark contrast to his rugged appearance at that point, but appearances were the last thing on his mind. And it certainly saved him a headache when the owner pranced up to him, laughing under his breath before beckoning him inside with a knowing smile.

“I would ask what brings you to my casino,” the clown had said, eyes flitting first to his shorter stature then to the empty space besides him, “but the reason seems clear to me.”

After leading him to a table which was relatively out of the way, Grate Guy took a seat and he followed. The surprisingly somber atmosphere drew another contrast against the other patrons, dancing and celebrating away.

Grate Guy, for all his tendencies, showed he was actually capable of empathy. “...how long has it been?”

He shrugs. “Lost track of the days for the most part. Maybe...a couple of months, now? Again, not too sure.”

The clown offers him a glass of champagne on the house but he rejects it; he was never one to drink. Taking a sip of his own, Grate Guy goes on. “The two of you were close. My, it almost seems like yesterday when you and your fishy friends came barging in!”

Where the clown laughed, he sighed.

Sobering, Grate Guy mused, “It’s almost funny, really. First it was them who sullied my grounds with their melancholy, and now it seems like it’s your turn. Given what I know, it’s completely understandable.”

“Oh yeah…?” he scoffed. “How do you figure that?”

Grate Guy smiled that unnerving smile of his. “Why, because the two of you were like peas in a pod, of course!”

And then the clown had promptly discussed how you had basically commanded reassurance because you were “utterly pitiful,” according to the guy. How you didn’t believe you were worthy of being his friend because you knew you weren’t the best person, because you didn’t want to be a burden, because you were scared of making connections while knowing they could never last.

“Yet little ol’ me was able to get through to them,” Grate Guy finishes with a cheeky sigh. “All it took was telling them the truth: that you cared for them despite their flaws. _Ah_, much like a riveting tale turned tragedy, is it not?”

Before he could get a word in edgewise, another chipper voice interrupted him.

“_Ohoho_, if it isn’t my littlest spitfire!”

“Would you look at that,” Grate Guy hummed, “it seems my newest bouncer has been summoned.”

He watched Knife Guy stroll up to their table, arms wide and painted smile firmly in place. Still, he found himself both annoyed yet appreciative of the other clown’s appearance. Anything was welcome to keep him from strangling the purple-clad one across from him.

What he hadn’t expected was for the yellow-clad brother’s smile to visibly wane when he noticed you weren’t there. 

But Knife Guy rectified his mistake by widening his smile artificially. “Well well well, it seems my other spitfire has already closed the curtain. A shame I never got to see their grand finale, much less offer them a proper send-off.”

“It seems the both of you are caught up in bittersweet memories,” Grate Guy begins, leveling a stare first at him which shortly shifts to the other clown. Then the purple-clad brother speaks up once more.

“My, my, what dour countenances! Do not mourn their loss; celebrate their life! Tragedies are meant to serve as a catharsis, not inundate the audience with meaningless suffering.”

He balked, but it wasn’t from a latent frustration. If anything, the words fell into his mind like the missing pieces of his puzzle.

Ignorant to the gears turning in his head, Knife Guy nodded. “Of course; not to say a good drama isn’t amusing, but when the scene is more personal the amusement is quick to turn into abhorrence. But I digress. 

“Speaking of their likely pivotal role,” Knife Guy continued, “did my little gift aid them at all? I can find joy in their departure if my appreciation did not go to waste.”

He paused, feeling the subtle weight of your bandana tucked inside his robes. The clown brother’s present was still attached to it.

He waved their concerns away. “Honestly, I should be thanking you guys for the Amulet; may have saved them on more than one occasion. They...they were pretty reckless, after all.”

Despite their flippant attitudes and stagnant smiles, both Grate Guy and Knife Guy appeared to deflate. Reassurance coated their subtle nods and words when they thanked him. The clown’s honesty was odd but welcome all the same.

“While I may not have known them for long, I dare say the impression they’ve left on me is a lasting one.” Knife Guy laughed under his breath; it seemed genuine. “I can only hope they’re accomplishing big things back in their own world, _ahaha_! Even so, they won’t be so easily forgotten, just like you; both my little spitfires...even if your flame seems a bit small at the moment.”

He said nothing because what is there to say? He hadn’t had nearly enough time to process any of the sorrow he felt, still too caught up in mourning. But he let them know their strange methods of comfort were appreciated before he took his leave.

The clown brothers waved him off and out the pristine doors of the casino, and he continued his trek.

He opted to turn around knowing he’d be unable to reach further than Land’s End, much less make to Bean Valley above. So he returned to Seaside Town’s beach where he spent days under its pleasant breeze and amongst the gentle waves.

There, he took up Grate Guy’s advice: he celebrated your life. Or more exactly, fondly remembered the time you both spent amongst the sands of the beach, relishing in one another’s company after the close call that was Yaridovich.

Slowly but surely, he made his way all the way back to the Mushroom Kingdom, recalling your face every step of the way. Though the memories hurt, they also soothed him to remember you had been _happy_, be it because of him or otherwise. In a sense he was lucky enough to witness that happiness and recall it whenever he pleased.

Maybe in that way you’d never left him.

But he also couldn’t deny the aching loneliness which had, at one point, also consumed you. Traveling alone was his calling when he was younger but it seemed so pointless now. Perhaps he’d been spoiled by your presence. Still, he wouldn’t take it back no matter what. 

He’s a Shy Guy of his word, after all.

Aimlessly wandering no longer lit that spark in him, and being alone never seemed so insurmountable. Nothing could rekindle that same joy. In the end he had crossed the world thrice over, but the first time you had been there to ease the aches of such a long adventure. Had filled his existence with yours.

It was only when his feet carried him beyond Mushroom Kingdom’s borders into the heated, craggy lands on which Bowser’s Keep was settled that he realized where he was. 

Despite coming to an understanding with Johnny and his crew, they weren’t there for him to take up the captain’s offer.

Someone of his ilk wouldn’t really fit with the humdrum lifestyle of Monstro Town.

The next best thing was finally taking up Bowser’s offer. 

He got along well enough with the Koopa, and he had known several other minions who claimed that the king, despite his appearances, looked out for them. He knows this to be true; he was there during the visit to Monstro Town, how Bowser had readily given his blessings to previous Koopa Troop members who defected in their own pursuits. What was it Belome had said…? Something about being spicy on the outside, yet sweet on the inside? Either way it was an apt description of the king of Koopas.

Really, who else would ever accept him as he is? 

Certainly not the Toads of Mushroom Kingdom, still recovering from the takeover of those crude replicas. Definitely not Rose Town where he once prowled around, looking for opportunities to make a quick buck at the expense of some unsuspecting merchant. Not even Booster Tower and the many Snifits roaming its halls appealed to him, either. Johnny departed for the open ocean. Though fond of gardening, such a job was already taken in Nimbus Land.

He wanted to do his own thing on his own time. Nothing more, nothing less.

And true to his word Bowser had let him inside his newly renovated fortress with warm, awkward words. 

Being the hero of the lands didn’t suit him, so he opted to blend in amongst the countless other Shy Guys under Bowser’s rule. Maybe it was because he never appreciated that sort of attention, or maybe because the attention elicited memories of your time together, but he discarded his old identity in favor of beginning anew.

Thus he joined Bowser’s ranks on that condition: treat him like he would his other minions. Let him figure things out without any outer influence, be they done from kindness or pity. 

And Bowser had offered him one last grin before barking out an order for him to aid in the lingering repairs. 

Just like that he found himself toiling away, another face in the crowd of Bowser’s army. Left to his lonesome, he completed his given tasks with efficiency, and in the breaks between the work he always found himself reminiscing. Direction made the flickers of your face seem that much sweeter; respite amongst the routine.

It was nice. Relegated to being a reliable peon as opposed to being ostracized for his species, he found himself at home—as much as he could’ve, anyway. 

When he thinks of home, he thinks of you.

So he spent his time amongst Bowser’s minions, occupied with routine and remembrance; simplistic but rewarding. 

That is until the Koopa had abruptly announced that they were to travel to the Beanbean Kingdom. 

Huh. It had been odd considering the last he heard, Bowser was off to the Mushroom Kingdom to kidnap the princess...again. To return empty-handed with a decree to seek a foreign kingdom…? Odder yet.

But he couldn’t deny the fires that had been lit inside him. 

The prospect of adventure after so long of doing nothing worthwhile...it was a nice change of pace. Of course it reminded him, nearly painfully, of you, but that would be a small price to pay if it meant reminding him of who he had once been.

Then, in true fashion, everything went to shit.

He recalls waking up amongst rubble and other fallen minions, singes on his robe being the only indication of their crash landing. To think Bowser hadn’t even finished paying off that airship…

Be it curiosity or the lingering aches in his body begging him to move, he had set off on his lonesome. He aimlessly wandered amongst the plains of the Beanbean Kingdom before finally settling on a simple objective: find Bowser. Might as well make use of his ability to track. Maybe then the Koopa could rally up the rest of the troops in an able fashion. Wishful thinking on his part, really, but it was the best he could come up with given the dire situation. 

Having forgone his slingshot for the slower yet stronger heft of turnips, courtesy of his subconian magic, he had little trouble fending for himself. If anything, the weighty vegetables reminded him of the mace he once used.

Still, it was reassuring to learn airborne enemies were no longer an issue for him. 

But then he was forced to fight those amongst his own standing. They who previously cheered for Bowser now did so for some guy called Fawful. It was annoying to trade blows with both comrades and foreign monsters alike, but it had to be done.

So when a Goomba adorned with a, frankly, ridiculous flag came scampering up to him, he didn’t hesitate to lash out.

And the rest is history: Captain Goomba reminded him of you in the beginning, so desperately in need of assistance, that he took it upon himself to stick around.

Maybe it was the remnants of your face brought about by the Goomba’s countenance, or perhaps it was a distraction from the endless yearning, but he enjoyed the other’s presence greatly. Certainly made it easier to scour across the varied lands of Beanbean Kingdom, searching high and low for Bowser. Just like you, Captain Goomba was about as clumsy as they come, an accidental front to hide the strength brimming inside.

The two of you shared so many similarities it nearly tore him apart in those first few days. But the longer he remained by the Goomba’s side, the more time he had to realize how necessary his continued presence was. None of the other loyal minions seemed to believe in Captain Goomba’s endless charisma, nor did they know their way around a foreign land such as the Beanbean Kingdom. And where they lacked wits and direction, he would supplement his own.

Thus Shyster became Captain Shy Guy.

He grew into his new role with a muted enthusiasm. Even if he was travelling once again, filling his heart with newfound memories and connections, they could never replace the ones he desperately clung onto. Like treasures, he kept them locked away from everyone else’s prying eyes.

...maybe he was a bit possessive of his memories - of _you_ \- but he felt it was warranted given, well, _everything_.

Which is why a certain green-clad Shy Guy had irked him so much during their short ceasefire. 

Sergeant Guy had an ego more befitting of someone thrice his height and an insufferability to match. But the cocky green Shy Guy had come to blows with those other two equally overzealous minions and opted to stick around his makeshift band of misfits instead. A hassle, but one worthwhile given the other’s aptitude for magic.

“Besides,” Sergeant Guy had scoffed, “not like I don’t know when I’m beat. It happened once before and I don’t want a repeat experience of _that_ humiliation.”

Other than the endless copse of trees surrounding them there was nothing else of interest to observe. So he took the low-hanging fruit and griped, “What could be worse than getting ditched by your own buddies?”

“_I_ ditched _them_,” Sergeant Guy corrected immediately, shifting his massive backpack until it rested comfortably between his shoulders. “And second, nearly starving to death in some dank, dark basement is pretty hard to outdo.”

That struck a chord. A dull familiarity tugged at him.

But the floodgates had opened, especially when Captain Goomba had likewise shown an interest in the green Shy Guy’s background. So Sergeant Guy, ever one to speak about himself, grumbled about how he used to be an esteemed strategist to a powerful woman before she shunted him to rot in her basement because he dared to inform her of a potential coup. 

“It worked out in the end,” Sergeant Guy quipped. “In fact, the one I was warning her about freed me! If it wasn’t for them I probably wouldn’t be here.”

Then almost like an afterthought, the green Shy Guy commented, “They even warned me about Fawful. And that was years ago!”

He nearly tripped over himself. 

_Sergeant Guy_ had been the Sling Shy you found in Nimbus Castle’s basement?! And you knew he would eventually need to be guided away from Fawful, who only became an immediate threat recently…

He stumbled again. 

Back then, you had known about what was to come in Beanbean Kingdom. You really were a seer, through and through. If only you could’ve stayed...Maybe then you’d be complaining about your dumb knee whilst limping beside him; he’d put up with it because you’d know where to go and what to do...

The cycle of heartbreak continued anew.

Sergeant Guy blathered on about how you had saved him first from starvation, then again during the battle against Valentina and Dodo. Thankfully no one else seemed to notice his emotional slip-ups, but the damage was done.

More than done when Sergeant Guy had sighed and remarked, “I don’t think I ever thanked them properly. Then again, I haven’t seen or heard of ‘em in a while, which is kinda weird. If anyone deserved to make it big it’d probably be them. Can’t get more esteemed than freeing a kingdom from a tyrant!”

The final straw was hearing the Shy Guy mutter fondly, “I miss them; they were a fun time.”

He vowed to never speak of you to anyone else. 

The grief was his and his alone to process. He’d always been steadfast when it came to being self-reliant, and that hadn’t changed even after you disappeared.

But when Sergeant Guy, ass-kisser that he was, continued to speak of you with tones of muted reverence, he grew irate. The guy never knew you like he had. But he begrudged that if anyone could beguile the green Shy Guy, it’d be you. You _did_ have a perchance for attracting the attention of his kin no matter how you denied it.

Despite his personal feelings, he found it comforting to know you’ve been remembered by someone else. 

Finding his apparent silence unnerving, Sergeant Guy approached him. “So you’re a Captain, right? What’s with the blatant indifference to your station, huh?”

There were many ways he could’ve dignified the underlying jab with a response.

Before he could, however, the green Shy Guy’s attention was brought to his unique flag, made of the worn fabric leftover from your bandana. It drew a stark contrast against the pristine one mounted upon Captain Goomba’s skull. 

Sergeant Guy scoffed. “And I see your indifference extends to your flag. Why not replace that dingy old thing with something more fitting, like with your pal over there—”

And he had never spun so fast on the balls of his feet, all to level a venomous glare at the other. 

The green Shy Guy immediately balked, composure wavering in the face of his latent wrath. Rightfully so, given by the hesitance painted on Captain Goomba’s features; even he, for all the echoes of you he displayed, couldn’t get away with disrespecting his flag.

Because by insulting his flag they were insulting the memory of you.

“_Shut up_,” he had hissed into Sergeant Guy’s mask, tension roiling around them.

Then, so quietly the words could only be heard between the two of them, he seethed, “You didn’t know them like _I_ did, and this flag is _all I have left_.”

The underlying threat had been clear and Sergeant Guy, wisely, shut his mouth. 

Even amongst the other minions he’d built up a reputation not only as a loner, but as someone to avoid angering unnecessarily. The rumor amplified the remnant of your voice, jokingly calling him a thug. You were right then and remained right.

Sergeant Guy kept his snide jabs to a minimum. Still he’d bring up how you had saved his hide in more ways than one, but they were welcome admissions. Maybe they were even meant to pacify the rage he aimed at the green-clad Shy Guy.

It worked, and he fell back into quiet observation.

Despite coming clean about his turbulent emotions to someone else - in a way - he knew Sergeant Guy would keep his mouth shut when it concerned your memento. Intimidation was certainly handy, especially so when he wanted to hide his own issues away from curious eyes and well-meaning words. Several people knowing and less even understanding made it easier to process everything on his own terms.

Like Mr. Shroomby had advised alongside Grate Guy, he promised himself he’d find a way out of the lingering grief which seemed so tangible. It was his fault for getting so damned attached, but that’s the fallacy of love: there must always be something from which pain is born.

He’ll figure it out in time. 

So he remained silent even as the conversation drifted into how Sergeant Guy melded into the Koopa Troop. 

Over many battles and nights spent under Beanbean’s sky, they seemed to come to a silent understanding of their own. Sergeant Guy would never know the depths which had made up your partnership and thus wouldn’t command attention to your lingering memory in a superficial manner. It was sad in a way, knowing that your legacy would be confined to a few Shy Guys, sharks, clowns, and the other heroes who triumphed against Smithy.

You only deserved to be remembered by those you loved in turn, he thinks.

It was pretty annoying when, in a show of companionship, Sergeant Guy had sidled up to him and noted the similarities between you and Captain Goomba.

“Is he why you’re sticking around these guys? You clearly know what you’re doing, but...eh, to each their own, I guess.”

His glares seemed to work wonders when it came to silencing the green Shy Guy. Even so, the comments continued in some poor attempt to form a closer connection. He eventually settled on ignoring the other when such advice stemmed from the fact that you allowed Sergeant Guy to make it big with your interference, so why did he not do the same? 

He quashed those remarks with honesty: he wanted to do things at his own pace. 

Still Sergeant Guy pestered him about making something out of himself; if not for himself then how about being someone you’d be proud of? Y’know, if you were still around.

He scoffed. Because he and you were two vastly different people and thus had very different ideals to aspire for. If anything, the only thing you both shared was a possessive streak a mile wide; you with your happiness and he with his memories of you.

Shrugging, he replied, “Doesn’t matter. I’m happy enough here with the others, and that’s good enough for me.”

And the words were true: steadily yet surely, he reaffirmed his joy for travelling alongside a myriad of companions. Sure, none of them would ever replace you, but he doesn’t doubt you also wouldn’t want him to stew in the same turmoil you had. If anything, his memories served to remind him of why life is worth living.

At one point he’d wondered why others invested in love if heartbreak was sure to follow. But then your smiling face surfaced in his mind’s eye and he wondered no more.

The bad times make the good times seem that much richer. And who is a thief like him to deny such gains?

But nothing could appease the green Shy Guy, not even heartfelt admissions. It’s to be expected from someone who knows but doesn’t truly understand.

Which is why it was a relief when Sergeant Guy eventually ditched them.

He submerged himself in the company of companions turned comrades, relishing in the cheer brought by both Captains Goomba and Koopa Troopa, and appreciating the normalcy Captain Boo presented. Though it was hectic to watch over their squad, he found it exhilarating in a way that he could only previously attain when he recalled your adventures together.

Bit by bit, his tattered heart seemed to be filling once more.

…

Like right now, as he sits amongst the gentle waves lapping up to kiss the tips of his shoes, he feels lighter than he has in a long, long time.

He brushes a hand over his flag, appreciating how hardy the fabric is to have lasted a lifetime with Johnny, then survived the forefront of the action whilst wrapped around your neck. Sure, the color is slightly faded and the material is see-through in some places, but he figures there’s no point in keeping it around if it’ll only gather dust.

Whenever he looks at it, he always falls into the midst of his memories.

Seeing your smiling face no longer brings tears to his eyes, and recalling your laughter no longer makes the space by his sides feel empty with nothing to fill it. Instead he does as Grate Guy suggested: he celebrates the times he spent alongside you, even more so when he causes your smiles in the first place.

Mr. Shroomby was right in that regard, too. It took a long time for him to come to terms with everything, and he may not be there yet, but he’s getting better. 

If someone like you could attain the same love and affection you’d yearned for since the beginning, despite the self-doubt and loathing which often plagued you, then he could also surmount his own grief. Because, just like he had been there for you, now the Captains are there for him, even if they may not know it.

But it’s fine; he’s okay with hiding your memory from their view. He’s still a possessive thief at heart, after all.

“Looking at your flag again?”

He starts and heaves a curse in his own tongue before turning to offer Captain Boo a half-hearted glare. “Next time you sneak up on me I'm gonna hurl a turnip at your head.”

The specter shrugs carelessly. Long tongue lolling from his fanged maw, Captain Boo peeks over his shoulder to glance at your memento. “Hmm. I’d ask what’s so special about the thing but I’d rather not risk it,” he blithely says. “Who knows? Maybe us ghosts can die again, _hee hee hee_…!” 

He grunts. “Last I checked you can turn intangible.”

“Yeah, but that takes effort.”

He can practically feel the space between his eyes twitching with irritation. “Is there another reason why you decided to bother me, or what?”

Captain Boo grins down at him, clearly used to his no-nonsense personality. “Actually, yeah. See, we’ve gotta join that cuties battle contest or whatever to get Mistress Wendy back, right? Me and the other Captains were talking and we’ve come to a consensus!”

Deadpan, he remarks, “And I wasn’t included in this conversation because…?”

“Because you’d totally disagree with it!” is Captain Boo’s chipper response. 

He grunts again and waits for the hammer to drop. And drop it does, pulverizing his already low image of himself. With burning cheeks not resulting from the sun overhead, he stutters, “You...you want me to do _what_…?!”

Captain Boo snickers, high-pitched and squeaky. “Well, we need a cute mascot to represent our team, right? And...like I said, the rest of us pretty much unanimously agreed you’d be a perfect fit! Like right now; you’re blushing ‘cause you’re embarrassed! It’s adorable, _hee hee_…!”

He slaps his hands over his mask, cursing in his own language again.

Their antics even gather the attention of both Captains Goomba and Koopa Troopa, who scuttle from the shallow waters to poke their own fun at his countenance. The water clinging to their shoes splashes onto his robes as they prance about his hunched form.

“Aw, c’mon Captain Shy Guy!” Captain Goomba’s grin can be heard clearly through his words. “Think of all the good you’ll be doing for us, including for Mistress Wendy and even Lord Bowser! And you don’t even have to do much; just be your usual cute self!”

_Tch_, like he ever refers to him as ‘Lord’ without an undercurrent of exasperation. 

“Yeah, what the little guy said!” Captain Koopa Troopa even pats him on the back jovially. “With your face on the forefront of our team, it’ll be a win so easy you’ll think it was a dream!”

Again with the unnecessary rhymes…How does he put up with their tomfoolery?

But even he can’t maintain the glare adorning his mask. If anything, the cheers and jabs at his expense bring your face to mind. He wasn’t an idiot back then and he certainly isn’t one now, but he knew you were fond of Shy Guys. Why else would you find those damn Greapers so adorable? Not to mention the few times you slipped up and called _him_ cute…

There is a subtle longing as there will likely always be. Even so, the memories comfort him more than they hurt.

It’s a bit ironic, he thinks. You were always so cold, so frigid, yet your presence - be it in memory or otherwise - are warm in ways he can’t articulate. He figures the feeling is his heart beginning to scar after carrying open wounds for so long.

The pain of losing you nearly crushed him. He wonders if that is why you were so hesitant to tell him that you _wanted_ to be remembered—be remembered as you were besides him, happier than you ever were before.

Your existence meant something; probably too damn much, honestly.

But he doesn’t regret; he never regrets remembering you. Where pain bloomed before, now there is nothing but fleeting warmth. You are more than worth his personal struggles.

He may not have the chance to share his future with you, but you are still with him in many ways.

He scoffs, batting away his crowing teammates. “_Ugh_, fine; whatever. The sooner we win this stupid contest, the sooner _I_ can take a break.”

“Huh? Why not take a break right now like the rest of us?” Captain Goomba grins at him, fangs gleaming. “It’s not like Mistress Wendy is any danger; we can afford to relax for a bit, and that includes you!”

Another tap to his shoulder. Captain Boo continues smiling, but then again it’s basically the ghost’s sole expression. “Yeah, what Goomba said. We all know you’ve been working yourself ragged keeping us in line, so why not just sit back and enjoy the view?”

Captain Koopa Troopa nods eagerly. “We’re all buddies here! We all gotta be on top of our game for the Koopa Troop’s sake, so it's not like we’ll be worse off if we pause to take a break. Sit with us and chill; we’ve got time to kill!”

He sighs, low and drawn. “Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you guys.”

“Dude, no need to be rude.”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Captain Boo rolls his eyes, but none of them appear fazed by his blunt words. Then again everyone knows they have no bite to them; they never do whenever he’s alone with the other Captains. Of course, when he has to put some of the other minions in line, well...the thug _really_ comes out then.

Still, Captain Boo drags Captain Koopa Troopa off into the waters to resume their rest, leaving Captain Goomba by his side.

The wide smile still encompassing the Goomba’s face shines nearly as brightly as the midday sun overhead. Glancing down at your bandana resting atop his lap, the Goomba falters briefly. Then, almost timidly, the Captain offers, “I don’t know who they were, o-or anything really, but you’re my friend and I’ll always be here to lend an ear if you need it.”

He turns the words over in his mind. Then he sighs again, but it’s more a quiet breath than anything.

“...thanks,” he says in the face of the Goomba’s earnesty. Nodding as if to reassure both himself and his companion, he adds, “I appreciate it.” 

But his lingering silence afterwards attests to the fact he won’t be relenting any memories of you. Maybe not yet, or maybe not ever, but there’s still time to determine if he’ll ever be ready to expunge the grief, joy, pain, and love you incited in him. 

There’ll always be time to figure out those sorts of things.

Captain Goomba smiles easily, none too bothered by his reluctance to tread further. Noticeably cheerier, the Goomba replies, “Don’t worry about it; er, I mean don’t worry about telling me. It’s just an offer, after all! I can’t call myself a good leader if I’m not there for my comrades, anyways!”

To appease Captain Goomba, he tilts his head at the lapping tides of Gwarhar Lagoon. “I’ll join you guys in a few minutes.”

And Captain Goomba’s grin seems to widen even further. “Alright! And don’t you dare back out now; you’ve got to relax like the rest of us, you know. We’re all in this together, right?”

He pauses, mulls over the phrase. 

Looking at Captain Goomba’s sheer audacity and nigh-endless charisma, he nods. “Of course.”

So he watches the Goomba retreat to the other Captain’s sides, leaving him to his lonesome once more. Then again, it’s not like he’s actually alone; not when there are three others awaiting his arrival, and certainly not with the imprint of you filling his heart like the morning sun.

Your presence, no matter how intangible, comforts him. You are worth the heartache he is navigating to this day.

In a way, he’s inconceivably lucky he crossed paths with you on that hill by Rose Way.

He’s lucky to have had the chance to spend any moments alongside you; lucky to have exchanged both pain and joy with you; lucky to have witnessed your happiness and love firsthand. Lucky to have known you at all.

So he loses himself for just a little longer, reveling in the warmth brought about by his memories. They are pleasant, a reminder that someone like him had found true happiness, no matter how fleeting. It happened and is therefore worth remembering. It’s a simple way of thinking but it suits him.

When he’s ready to wander amongst the same waters which had captivated you so, he reattaches your memento and stands up. He waves at Captains Goomba, Boo, and Koopa Troopa, who return with their own joyful motions.

“Come on in, Captain Shy Guy!” Captain Goomba yells. “The water’s perfect!”

Like before and until forever, his feet push him onwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Me, having been too lazy to actually research if this matches up with canon but deciding to write anyway:** _Creative liberty, baby!!!_
> 
> On a more serious note, I hope _this_ twist wasn't so obvious! Like, I figured why not make this entire fic into a potential backstory for Captain Shy Guy ala Shyster (among others *cough* Sergeant Guy *cough*)? I just...like world-building (and Shy Guys) I guess ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. 
> 
> Here's some more doodles, specifically of Johnny, Stitches, and Stripes:
> 
> (Sorry the art quality is pretty ass; I only have my phone camera to work with lol.)
> 
> Thank you for sticking around! I hope you enjoyed _**Deluge**_!!


End file.
